Something Familiar
by genericdarklord
Summary: What do an insane cat hybrid, armored murder owl and village-devouring flower have in common? They're all things children shouldn't be in charge of! Having students summon familiars in their first year of Hogwarts is great when they're things like cats and dogs. That... isn't always the case. Our heroes might save the world, assuming they don't accidentally destroy it first.
1. Do Snakes Even Have Sphincters?

Something Familiar (MK.2)

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Chapter One

"Do Snakes Even Have Sphincters?"

AKA

"Let's Get Adder Here!"

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

As the clock struck midnight, Harry received the best birthday present of his life.

Granted, that wasn't exactly a high mark to reach. To date he had been given seven presents: four for his birthday and three for Christmas. So far the hunk of raw chicken neck wrapped in a used sock had been his favorite. It clearly wouldn't be good for cooking and probably would have tasted awful even if it was fat bastard's idea of a joke, he supposed. Unfortunately for him, Harry immediately decided it was the perfect size to shove into the small slit he made in Dudley's boxspring.

His 'family' never did find out about that one. After several weeks of putting up with the stench, it was decided that Dudley had befouled himself one too many times. The entire bed was summarily replaced, ridding the home of the smell.

But the chicken neck had nothing on this.

At exactly 12:00.01, a massive boom rocked the small shack. Now, normally the word "rocked" would be used in a figurative sense in a situation like this. That's wasn't the case here. The entire structure shuddered and groaned as the bare supports along the wall tilted and flexed.

Another boom came, and then a third. That made three in quick succession, almost like someone knocking. That thought was immediately discarded as being absurd, leaving Harry to wonder who was wasting perfectly good artillery on them.

Needless to say, the other occupants of the room were instantly awake. Vernon rolled off the bed like a one boulder landslide, crushing all in his path. Petunia, who for some godforsaken reason was sleeping on the outside side of the bed, was definitely in his path. She let out a pained squeak as his weight slammed into her. Vernon didn't even seem to notice as he flipped off the bed and onto his feet in an impressive display of agility.

Impressive being a relative term, of course. While not graceful, it was somewhat remarkable that he managed to control the swinging lump of lard that was his gut well enough to end up on his feet.

It was a good thing Harry was still young and naive. If he had been a bit more worldly, the sight of Vernon plowing into Petunia would have surely caused some vomit-inducing thoughts.

(But not as much as the sight of Vernon "plowing" into Petunia would.)

Dudley had barely opened his eyes before his father was hurtling toward him. Just before slamming his son straight through the wall, Vernon threw his weight back and set his feet. He somehow managed to come to a screeching halt just in front of the sofa and quickly grabbed the bottom edge. Crazed strength powered by pure fear surged down his arms as he flipped the piece of furniture, fatass son and all.

Even before Dudley hit the ground his father was opening a small metal box that had been concealed there. He quickly - or as quickly as a man with trembling hands could - worked the latch and popped it open.

To Harry's shock, he pulled out a rifle.

Vernon nearly dropped the weapon as three sharp thuds made the shack release a pained cry. Impossibly, they were even louder and harder than the first set.

Moving frantically, Vernon began loading the rifle. His hands were still shaking, of course, turning the simple action into a herculean task. Four fumbled rounds hit the ground before he finally managed to slide one home. Watching as his uncle struggled to load a second bullet, Harry couldn't help but note that the whole process would have been a lot easier if the idiot had just loaded it ahead of time.

If the first set of knocks had been loud and the second set deafening, the third could only be described as devastating. Tired of simply groaning and creaking, several wooden beams cracked and splintered in a way that didn't look at all healthy. The trio of knocks was clearly a bit more than the shitty old building could take. At least, Harry assumed it was a trio of knocks that caused the destruction. His ears were ringing so badly after the first that he couldn't actually hear the second or third.

The irritating noise faded in a matter of seconds, just in time for him to hear someone calling out.

"Hello? I say, is there anybody there?" they called. The voice was rough and deep, but had a surprisingly refined and cultured sound to it. "I'd appreciate it if you showed a bit of courtesy and let me out of the rain.

The request was met with silence.  
"There's no point in ignoring me, you know. I'd have to be quite a berk to get the wrong shanty on an one-shanty island, wouldn't I?"

Vernon shot Harry a look that made it quite clear what would happen if he spoke.

"Oh, yes. Quite the doddle this is, isn't it?" the man outside sighed. "I'd be quite a laughingstock if I caught my death picking up one little lad."

The interior of the shack remained conspicuously silent.

The visitor loudly cleared his throat. "Well then, it seems there's not a lad or lass to be found. Certainly no one would care if I took a gander about. Or perhaps I'll get out of this nasty rain and have a quick kip in that abandoned-"

"Go away!" Vernon shrieked, waving the gun in what he most likely thought was a menacing manner. Harry doubted the man outside would find it so, even if there wasn't a wall between them. "Just- just go away!"

"Aha! Dursley, old boy, is that you?" the visitor asked cheerfully.

"No! No, it's not me! Go away!"

"Don't be daft, man. You'd quite obviously be you, even if you hadn't said as much yourself," the visitor said reasonably. "I'd recognize that girlish squeal anywhere."

Vernon, finally finding some courage, actually shuffled a step towards the door. He was holding the rifle out in front of him, as if it were a stick he intended to poke a tiger with.

Harry was pretty sure that would end quite a bit better than what his uncle was trying.

"I'm telling you, leave! I have a gun! I won't warn you again!" Vernon shouted, buoyed up by the firmest and hardest shaft he'd ever held in his hands.

Even through the wall, Harry swore he could feel the atmosphere change.

"You're armed, are you? Well now, that changes things," the visitor said quietly. "You'd have to be daft to go up against a bloke with a gun."

"Ha! You see-"

The boom that interrupted Vernon was much, much louder than those before. It was also quite a bit deeper and sharper. In fact, it sounded a lot like nearly two kilograms worth of lead pellets - each slightly over 5mm in diameter - being suddenly and violently accelerated to ballistic velocities. Granted, Harry had never actually heard that sound before, but the source became readily apparent when a large serving of lead tore through the door.

The Dursley's screamed in fright and flinched away as chunks of doorknob sprayed into the room. It was probably a good thing, because a moment later said lead shot plowed into the floor and sent an impressive blast of wooden shrapnel across them.

Harry just watched, eyes wide with wonder, from his place in the corner.

His family had barely begun to recover when the door decided to see what flying felt like. Unfortunately, it was discovered it wasn't very good at it. It quickly aborted its attempts, seeking the nearest soft landing spot to cushion its fall. Vernon was knocked flat on his ass, and most likely slightly concussed, as it slammed into him.

The massive figure outside the doorway slowly lowered his foot. He leaned forward and began to shoulder into the hut, then paused and glared at the frame threatening to snag him. Backing out, he delivered another nasty kick to the doorframe. The entrance suddenly discovered it was quite a bit wider than it had thought, easily admitting him.

He was an immaculately groomed gentleman dressed in a very well-cut suit that, despite the weather, was perfectly dry. There was a lot of fabric to keep dry there, considering he was probably three times Harry's height. He would have cut quite the dashing figure, were it not for three things:

The fabric of his suit was a horrendous neon orange.

His undershirt was a bright pink with green stripes so bright they almost glowed.

His tie was black.

Harry wasn't sure why, but it was the tie that bothered him the most. It just seemed so out of place amongst the offensively brilliant colors. It was like a small island of sanity in a vast sea of eye-scorching pain. Somehow, just by being there, it made all the other colors just that much worse.

The man looked back and forth, quickly surveying the interior of the shack with a frown. Finally his eyes alighted on Vernon. The fat bastard was still prone on the floor and staring up at him with a look of shock, fear, recognition and anger.

"Good god, man. The middle of the room? An intruder pounds on your door in the middle of the night and you stand **behind** it?" the giant man demanded. Sweeping one arm to the side, he pointed the handle of his elaborately engraved cane at Harry. "Now the lad, the lad has some sense. A perfect place to launch an ambush. If an overconfident berk strolled in here to cause some mischief, he'd never see the blade coming. Good show, lad!"

"Uh… thanks?"

"You… It's you…" Vernon whispered. His lips were trembling in his pale face as he examined the intruder.

"Indeed. It'd be a bit of a strange thing for me to not be myself. I've seen stranger of course, but a bloke likes to think he'd know if he wasn't him."

"I should have known you were one of those **freaks**! You ruined my life!" Finally remembering that he had a gun in his hands, he brought it up. "I'll-"

Incredibly fast, the visitor's hand flashed out to pluck the weapon from the shocked man's grasp. He then proceeded to release his cane and quickly field strip it, sending a small rain of metal parts to the floor. Finished, he reached out calmly and caught his walking stick. The whole thing happened so quickly that it had barely learned a few degrees to the side.

"Well now, that's hardly a way to treat the man who saved your job. You should be thanking me, not telling me to bog off," Hagrid declared.

"You made a fool out of me!"

"I dare say you do a suitable job of that yourself. Besides, you should take pride in your work. Think of all the people you've made happy."

Vernon trembled and glared, but didn't answer.

"There's only a limited market for drills, you know. There's no money in them. But a motor's a motor, and Grunnings makes some damn fine motors indeed," their visitor explained. "Too good, in fact. We've had to put new warnings on the BBC-XL series this last batch. People seem to think '10' is the only setting, and there's been some issues with cracked pelvic bones.""

"Vernon? What is he talking about?" Petunia asked as she hesitantly came to her husband's side. "What's a… BBC-XXL?"

Turning red, Vernon squeaked, "Nothing!"

"You haven't at least told her what you do for a living? Being dishonest for years, just because you're not enough of a man to admit you make- Good lord man!" the visitor suddenly cut off. His eyes widened as he stared at Petunia like he'd just noticed her. "Is that your wife!?"

Vernon responded with a weak nod.

"Dear god. How does that even work?"

The collection of shocked residents looked at him in confusion.

"I mean, it must be like watching a walrus mate with a… with a…"

"Giraffe?" Harry suggested.

The huge man stared at him for a moment, then began roaring with laughter. "Yes! Yes, exactly like a giraffe! Good show, Harry!"

"You know me?" Harry asked with a look of puzzlement on his face. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I've ever seen you before. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered meeting you. You kind of stand out. Just a little."

Sighing, the visitor replied, "No, we haven't met, lad. I'm afraid there were certain… circumstances that presented a problem in that regard. I was, however, quite proud to call Lily and James Potter my friends. My name is Rubeus Hagrid, and it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You may call me Hagrid."

Harry examined the giant's outstretched hand, then cautiously took it. It enveloped most of his forearm, and the ensuing shake was enough to rattle his brain.

"You knew my parents?" Harry managed to get out between minor concussions.

"Indeed. **Everyone** knew your parents, of course, but I had the honor of knowing them personally. Finer people have never lived," Hagrid said wistfully as he released Harry. "A hero's death suited them, though it was a pity it came so young."

"A hero's death? But my parents died in a car accident. They were drunk."

Hagrid froze. All the friendliness and joviality faded from his eyes as he slowly turned to face the Dursleys. The three, having suddenly been filled with a nameless feeling of dread, quailed under his gaze.

"Drunk… driving?" Hagrid asked between gritted teeth.

Vernon apparently decided to prove that evolution sometimes fails and chose exactly that moment to show a little sack. "Who cares? The freaks got what they deserved. It's what you all-"

"Get out."

Vernon looked at him in confusion, then began to open his mouth again. Before he could speak, the tip of Hagrid's cane slammed down hard enough to bite into the floor. He twisted and shoved down, causing it to shift slightly under his grip and slide down. It produced a loud thunking sound and spat something out the side. The casing hit the floor and rolled to a stop at Harry's feet. It looked somewhat like a shotgun shell, but was significantly larger.

"I will do you the courtesy of informing you that I never miss a target on accident," Hagrid slowly ground out. "I will also warn you that I have **never** missed the same target twice. Is my meaning completely clear to you?"

Vernon, eyes wide, slowly nodded.

"Good. Now…" Hagrid twisted the cane again. The handle snapped back up into its original position. There was a second loud click, one Harry recognized from the violent action movies Dudley favored. It was a sound things only made when they were about to start spewing lead-fueled death. "...I believe it would be wise if you left. Immediately."

If the Dursleys needed any further prompting, it was supplied when Hagrid raised his cane and very pointedly directed it towards Petunia's head. The woman quickly paled, grabbed her son by the collar, and fled out the door. Vernon was barely an instant behind her, figurative tail between his legs. Harry could just barely hear the sound of a boat engine starting over the sound of the downpour outside.

Harry and Hagrid spent a long moment staring awkwardly at each other, at least one of them a bit shocked by how quickly the boy had been abandoned.

"So," Harry finally began. "How about that local-area sports team? They sure do sports."

"Yes. They certainly do," Hagrid said, nodding sagely. "I must admit, I find it a bit off-putting how quickly you were left behind."

Harry shrugged, looking back over his shoulder. He couldn't even see the departing boat through the widened door. "I'm not."

"And you don't find it concerning at all to be left with me?"

"I already like you better than them," Harry stated. "Besides, you said you knew my parents. How?"

"Ah, yes. How clumsy of me. You have to excuse me, but I'm afraid I've taken a few hits to the ivorys in my time," Hagrid said with an embarrassed chuckle. "I knew Lily and James from nearly the moment they started at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The finest - and coincidentally only - magical school in Britain," the giant said proudly. "Incidentally, you're a wizard, Harry. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the magical world."

"Magical world?" Harry asked, giving him a look of amazement and wonder. "Is it the really scary kind of magic world where everything wants to eat your eyeballs out of your face, or a happy place where birds help you sing songs?"

Hagrid thought for a moment. "Well… Somewhere in between, with a dash of both. I'd suggest staying away from things like the Canadian Bonesucker Moose."

"Yeah, like I need a warning about something really obvious like that."

"..."

"People need that warning, don't they?"

"Yes. Yes they do. I'm afraid sense and wisdom are quite hard to find these days," Hagrid sighed. "Don't worry, though. You seem like an unusually bright lad, so I'm sure you'll be fine."

Harry gave him a faint smile. "I read a lot. I don't have much else to do."

"Well, that's a habit that will certainly serve you well," Hagrid said approvingly. "You'll have much to learn soon. Now, it's best we retire for the day. Tomorrow will be quite busy. Come along."

Hagrid squeezed back out the opening and into the rain. Harry obediently followed him, stretching his arms out to the side out of sheer curiosity. Just like he had suspected, he couldn't even touch the sides of the hole in the wall.

As he stepped out of the shack, Harry's eyes widened. There, parked alongside the dock, was a beautiful red speedboat. It was the sort of thing Harry had seen on TV, displayed in races and boat shows. It looked extremely out of place secured to the old, splintering wooden dock.

Following his gaze, Hagrid smile proudly. "Quite the corker, isn't she? The young master was kind enough to let me borrow her for the occasion."

"Young master?" Harry shouted over the rain.

"Yes. I'm afraid he's quite busy with his studies at the moment. The lad's determined to do his father proud, and he's doing a smashing job of it," Hagrid declared. His proud smile put the last one to shame. "I'm certain you'll meet eventually, but for now rest is your priority. In you go."

Harry carefully stepped up onto the boat and descended through the hatch Hagrid opened. Inside, to his amazement, he found a rather spacious and well-furnished apartment inside.

"Is this Narnia?" Harry whispered. "Do you keep Narnia in your boat?"

Behind him, Hagrid laughed. "No lad, of course it's not Narnia. It's a perfectly ordinary spacial pocket containing a small apartment. Completely normal, nothing fantastic at all."

"I don't think that word means what you think it means," Harry muttered.

"Now then, I'm afraid I won't fit on the couch, but I'm told it's quite comfortable. Get some rest, because tomorrow we will be shopping for your school supplies. It wouldn't do to be knackered, would it?"

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

"This is London. We're in London," Harry observed.

The boat was, in fact, in London. It was an area he wasn't familiar with, but it was definitely from the architecture and general structure of the buildings. It caught him a bit off guard, considering he was pretty sure the lake he'd gone to sleep in wasn't connected to the city in any way.

"Indeed we are. We're on the River Thames, to be exact."

"I'm going to have to get used to things like this, aren't I?"

Hagrid simply nodded and stepped off onto the dock.

Their trip through the city was brief, but followed a route that the boy found impossible to track. At the end of it, he was pretty sure they hadn't gone far at all. It was the sort of trek you'd take to shake off pursuers, which definitely struck him as odd. The fact that it terminated at a child's playground just made it that much odder.

The situation only got even stranger as Hagrid gestured toward a spring horse toy and said, "On you go."

Harry studied the toy. It was a large, bright yellow horse with comical googly eyes, with an orange tail and mane. The whole thing was mounted on a single, massive spring. It would, obviously, allow the horse to swing back and forth in a rocking motion.

"Seriously?" Harry asked blandly.

"Seriously," Hagrid confirmed.

Frowning, Harry slid onto the toy. He bounced up and down for a moment, testing the spring. The horse wobbled slightly under his ministrations.

"Okay… so… what?"

"Now you simply ride it into the magical world," Hagrid replied, gesturing grandiosity.

Harry frowned up at him, then down at the horse. "Okay, now I know you're messing with me," he accused.

"I assure you I'm not. It may sound mental, but you must simply rock with all the force you can muster."

Giving his companion one last suspicious look, Harry began to rock. The horse bucked and swayed beneath him, jerking back and forth in a way that rattled his brain. He couldn't help but wonder who, exactly, would find this 'toy' enjoyable.

"Faster," Hagrid ordered.

"If there's someone hiding in the bushes with a camera, I'm going to be very upset…" Harry muttered, obeying the giant's command. He threw himself - literally - into it, slamming his rather inconsiderable weight back and forth as hard as he could. It slowly picked up speed as he flailed back and forth, reaching a velocity that could by no means be considered safe.

Just as he was actually starting to have fun, the inevitable happened. The horse bucked under him unexpectedly, causing the young wizard to forcibly and involuntarily dismount. With a surprised shout, Harry slammed into the cobblestones.

Wait, cobblestones?

Shaking his head, Harry sat up and blearily looked around. Instead of the playground that should have been there, he found himself in some sort of alley. The ground was, as noted, made of rough and uneven cobblestones. The walls were those of old style brick buildings, stretching up three stories on either side. Behind him was a dead end, likewise brick, with a yellow and orange horse crudely scrawled in chalk.

"Okay, my brain hurts. I'm pretty sure it's not because of the rocks," Harry groaned. "Or maybe it is? Did I just come out of the wall? Did I really- Wait! Crap!"

Harry dove to the side just in time to evade the huge man that flew out of the dead end. Hagrid slammed into the pavement, taking the blow to one shoulder and neatly rolling to his feet. Brushing his suit off, he looked around casually, as if he had just taken a simple stroll down the street.

Harry looked at the wall, Hagrid, and then the wall again. Staring at the chalk drawing, he said the only thing that came to mind.

"Did you seriously just ride the horse?"

"I did indeed," Hagrid confirmed. "It's rather exhilarating, isn't it?"

Harry looked around again. "I guess. I don't really think being here is worth knowing what the ground tastes like. I'm pretty sure I've seen dirty alleys before."

"Ha. A dirty alley, you say? This isn't just any dirty alley. It's Abysm Alley, a rather quiet backdoor to our destination. We wouldn't want too many people seeing you, you see?"

"No, I don't. Why? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, it's just that people would go crackers if I just walked you through a tavern. You're a bit famous, but I don't suppose you'd know that," Hagrid explained. "You killed the last Dark Lord, and ended a rather nasty series of terrorist actions."

Harry gave the large man a puzzled look. "I think you might have the wrong person. I'm pretty sure I haven't done something like that. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I killed Sauron or something."

"Well, it would be a bit strange if you did," Hagrid replied. "You were one after all."

Countless different responses went through Harry's mind at that. They ranged from "Are you mental?" to "What the hell is wrong with you?" and a thousand different variations in between. There were so many variations of the words involved that his brain nearly shut down after the seventeenth synonym for for stupid. Luckily, at that very moment he followed Hagrid out of the mouth of the alley.

"Holy crap," Harry gasped, all thoughts of human stupidity blown from his mind.

It was like the main thoroughfare of a charming medieval town, though it was more like a medieval fair than the real thing. People in outrageous clothing filled the street. Looking at the bathrobes, pointy hats and bright colors, it was quite easy to see where Hagrid had gotten his fashion sense.

The idea that it was fair was only reinforced by the bizzare collection of animals wandering around. Canines, felines, equines, avians, reptiles and more were roaming around like they owned the place. A fair number of exotic animals were present too, things that looked like they came straight out of a work of fiction. A jet black horse with a flaming mane, a three headed bird and a dog with a human face were only a few of the examples.

That last one kind of freaked Harry out. He tried his best to be subtle as he hauled Hagrid to the other side of the street in order to avoid it.

"There's a lot of… um… things around," Harry said conversationally, subtly using both hands to yank on Hagrid's belt in an attempt to cross the road.

"Yes, of course. You wouldn't know about…" the giant man trailed off, following Harry's gaze. Paling, he grabbed his smaller companion by the belt and hauled him into the air. He then proceeded to subtly and elegantly move aside, sending severally wizards sprawling as he politely made his way through the crowd. Casting a nervous look over his shoulder, he muttered, "Damn things freak me right out…"

"Huh?"

Hagrid cleared his throat and assumed a pace that, while normal for him, would have left Harry in the dust. The fact that Harry's feet were still hanging a foot above the ground rendered that a non-issue.

"I said we'd best be moving. We've quite a bit to do, so we don't have time to dilly-dally."

"That's not what you-"

"Now, now, we've not time to bugger about. We must, obviously, begin by collecting some funds," Hagrid declared.

Harry shrugged as he flew back and forth, hanging Hagrid's hand like some sort of living pendulum. Truth be told, he was pretty satisfied with hoofing it - or more accurately, swinging it - down the street like that. Being treated like a handbag was a bit odd, but it was kind of fun.

It almost felt like he was flying.

"Hagrid, why was there a… uh… why was..." Harry shuddered and quickly finished, "Dog. Face. Why!?"

Hagrid matched the boy's shudder and raised him a faint, sickened sound. "Because someone or something has a sick sense of humor. Either God or evolution, I suppose. Feel free to take your pick."

Over the years Harry had spent a great deal of time in the relative safety of the town's library. The staff there didn't put up with any sort of shenanigans, ensuring Dudley and his gang never lasted longer before getting tossed out. He, however, never caused any trouble, and was allowed to stay as long as he wanted with just one condition:

He had to be sitting in front of an open book.

Because of that, he had a much clearer understanding of both religion and evolution than most children his age. He briefly considered what sort of evolutionary process would give birth to such a monstrosity, but quickly found himself treading in a place no man should. As such, he quickly turned his thoughts toward intelligent design. Unfortunately, that train of thought quickly ended with hundred-foot monstrosities, tentacles, and words that devoured the mind just by existing.

"Nightmares," Harry whispered. "It wasn't born, it was made of pure nightmare-stuff."

"Aye lad. That it was."

Harry shook his head, trying to dislodge the dark chanting in the back of his mind. "But I didn't mean to as why the… that… was a thing. I wanted to know why all these strange things are here. Is that normal?"

"Ah, yes. Forgive me. The… that… derailed my train of thought. Yes, I assure you, it is quite normal. The creatures you see here, both mundane and magical, are Familiars. Well, most of them, at least."

"Like in books and stuff? Do people usually set them on fire?" Harry asked, pointing at a black horse with a burning mane. "I'm not a horse scientist, but I don't think it's healthy for them to be on fire…"

"That's a nightmare, lad. It would be quite unhealthy for it to not be on fire."

"Huh. I thought Familiars were supposed to be things like dogs and cats. No one ever said anything about- Are people getting **into** the huge cat!? Is that seriously a cat made of bus!?"

"Don't be absurd. A cat made of bus? Who ever heard of such a thing?" Hagrid chuckled. "It's obviously a bus made of cat."

"I'm pretty sure that's the same thing."

"No, they're not even remotely alike, though many do make that blunder."

Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Sure. I think you're making that up. Or am I supposed to think you're some kind of Buscat expert or something."

"It was a Catbus and, as a matter of fact, I am a Catbus expert. Well, general Arcane Zoology, but I believe it still counts. I received my mastery from the Salem Advanced Speleology Society. I'm quite learned in mundane Zoology as well."

"...you went to SASS? Does that make you SASSy?"

" **That's** the part you choose to focus on?"

"What? It's funny," Harry giggled.

"Be that as it may, it's also one of the few magical institutions open minded enough to educate someone who can't cast spells. It's quite rude to laugh about it due to a poorly thought out acronym."

Harry looked up at him curiously. "You can't use magic?"

"Not at all," Hagrid confirmed. "My magical core was sealed. It's left me completely knobbled. I can't cast even the simplest spell."

Harry frowned. Twisting around a bit, he craned his neck to look across Hagrid's body. Fixing his eyes on the shining, engraved metal of his cane, he said, "But you have a gun in your cane. That doesn't seem like a bad trade to me. It's a big gun and everything."

"Big? Hah. Come around for a cuppa sometime. I'll show you something **really** big."

"...you know you probably shouldn't say stuff like that when you're dragging a little boy around, right? Or is that kind of thing normal? I was kind of expecting you to sell me off to someone anyway, but I'm having second thoughts now that we're getting down to it."

"I see you've learned some questionable things for such a young boy," Hagrid said disapprovingly. "I should have had someone lean on that naff and force him to take those invitations. You would have had a proper education."

"Huh?"

"You received several invitations to no less than three private institutions."

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. "I remember that. Uncle Vernon tried to send me to an institution, but they said I wasn't old enough."

Hagrid's left eye twitched slightly. "Not that kind. The good and proper kind."

"I never got anything like that," Harry said with a confused look.

"Yes. You did. Believe me when I say I know that as an incontrovertible fact. At least one of them was for the very same institution that my former lord attended," Hagrid muttered darkly. "We'll see how things go now that there's no need for an intermediary…"

"What?"

Hagrid's face immediately brightened, the dark scowl evaporating like it was never there. "Oh, don't mind me. It appears I'll have to see a man about a dog later. Nothing to worry yourself about."

"The dog doesn't have a person-face, does it?" Harry asked with obvious concern. "Because if it does, you should probably see a different man about a different dog."

"Trust me, that would be the last dog that man ever saw…" Hagrid declared with a shiver. "And, to answer your prior question, that sort of thing is **not** prevalent in our society. Not in most families, anyway, but those are the ones that tend to favor inbreeding anyway."

The next hour was a whirlwind of blinding activity, so busy and fantastic that Harry could barely keep up with it. He found himself plunged into a new world more fantastic than he had ever imagined possible. His young mind could barely keep up with the new sights and sounds.

Yeah, just kidding.

In reality, he spent the hour standing in line. A really, really long line. Counting the loose threads in the robe of the person ahead of them was as close to excitement as he got. It was about as fun as it sounded, but it was still slightly better than watching paint dry.

He was about halfway through counting the one hundred and fourteen threads for the fourth time when the wizard suddenly stepped to the side, revealing a counter with a strange creature behind it.

Upon seeing the goblin Harry raised his hand, pointed, and said, "Oh, wow. What is that?"

Hagrid's eyes widened in shock and horror, while the goblin's narrowed. A faint, barely audible growl came from the creature.

Harry raised his hand to touch his cheek and continued, "Is it a scar?"

The goblin stared at him for a moment, then reached up to touch the long mark starting just beneath his eye and running down his cheek. "Yes. It is," it answered, studying the young wizard.

"Awesome," Harry whispered. "I've got one too, but it's not that cool. How'd you get it?"

"In a duel with Bloodclaw. The cowardly weakling nicked me with his axe and took a piece of me clean off."

"Did you get a piece of him?" Harry asked eagerly.

The goblin smiled slightly, revealing a mouth full of vicious teeth. "Yes. I caved his skull in with a mace. It still hangs on my wall."

"You have a **skull** on your wall?"

The goblin nodded.

Harry immediately turned to look up at Hagrid. "Hagrid, can I have a skull?"

"You're a bit young for duels to the death, lad. Perhaps when you're older," Hagrid chuckled, patting him on the head.

"Aww…"

Hagrid turned to regard the goblin. Surprisingly, all traces of annoyance had vanished. Instead, it was looking at Harry with mild curiosity. It was slight, but it wasn't quite the expression of disinterest and disdain they looked at most wizards with.

"Please forgive the interruption. We are here to remove some gold from Mr. Harry Potter's vault." Hagrid placed a small, golden key on the counter. Beside it he placed a small slip of folded paper. "I am also to retrieve an item from vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin took the letter and read it carefully. After a moment, it sneered. "Very well, Hunter. I'll have someone bring you to both vaults immediately. Wouldn't want you getting lost like the fool you are. Griphook!"

Griphook was, unsurprisingly, another goblin. He motioned for them to follow him, then began walking toward a door in the side of the hall. The pair began following him, but Hagrid was brought up short as Harry suddenly paused and turned to call, "Thank you, miss!" back the way they'd come.

Hagrid caught a brief glimpse of the goblin's shocked look as they left through the door.

"Miss?" Hagrid asked quietly.

"Yeah. She was nice. Why, was that bad?"

"It is simply surprising. Most can't tell the difference," Hagrid explained. "Though, in the future it would be best to refer any female goblins you meet as 'wench' or 'whore,' rather than a polite term like 'miss.'"

Harry gave him a confused look. "That seems really mean."

"Goblins are a strange lot. The more disrespectful you are, the better. Unless, of course, you are **actually** being disrespectful. They're quite able to tell the difference," Hagrid said with a laugh. "If a goblin bows and scrapes before you, they are being quite rude. It's amusing to see them do it to 'noble' wizards who clearly mistake it for true respect and humility. Being polite is essentially a way of saying you're too weak to deal with the abuse."

"This place is weird," Harry decided, shaking his head. "What's in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

Hagrid shrugged, but also turned his head to hide a disapproving frown. "A small parcel that the Headmaster could not retrieve himself. He's a tad busy getting ready for the school year."

They finally caught up to a clearly annoyed Griphook, who held a large iron door open for them. Slipping through, Harry was a bit surprised to discover that he wasn't in another beautiful marble hallway. Instead, the space beyond was something like a narrow cliffside. A set of rickety looking tracks wound past on a wooden scaffold of questionable stability. Peering over the edge, the impressed boy stared down into the darkness, trying to see the bottom.

Griphook put a hand to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. There came a clattering from the darkness, and a minecart rolled up beside them.

"Is this a rollercoaster?" Harry asked in awe. He barely seemed to notice as Hagrid hastily hauled him away from the edge and set him in the cart. Studying the ancient vehicle, he poked at the damp boards a few times. "I didn't know goblins had rollercoasters. The stories never said anything about that, either..."

"They don't," Hagrid hastily said.

"But we could," Griphook added with a grin. "Quite easily."

"How fast does this thing go?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hagrid had just enough time to whisper, "Dear god," before Griphook cheerfully slammed the lever at the front as far forward as it could go.

Harry had, obviously, never been on a rollercoaster. The Dursleys had taken Dudley to an amusement park a few times, but he'd always either been left in the car or locked in his cupboard. But, even with nothing to compare it to, he could confidently say Disney World had nothing on the goblins.

Harry, grinning so wide he though his face might split, hopped out of the cart. He skipped onto the rough stone floor, then wirled to look at Hagrid. The huge man was still standing motionless in the cart, jaw clenched and hand wrapped so tight around his cane his knuckles were white.

"Hagrid?"

"Give the Hunter a moment, brat. He's struggling with his own pathetic weakness," Griphook snapped.

For a split second Harry gave the goblin a shocked and annoyed look. It was only an instant, though, as something clicked in his brain. "Oh. Okay. So… why do you call him Hunter? The la- uh… wench. The wench upstairs called him that, too," he asked awkwardly.

Griphook examined him for a moment, then smiled. Harry was pretty sure it was a smile, at least. It certainly showed a lot of teeth. "Because he fancies himself as such, and acts as if his pathetic trophies demand respect."

"Oh. You don't like him at all, do you?"

Nodding solemnly, Griphook agreed, "The Hunter is weak and worthless."

"Wow. I didn't know Hagrid was that pathetic," Harry declared in an impressed tone.

"A bit more so at this moment than most," Hagrid muttered, carefully climbing over the side of the cart.

Griphook brushed past Harry, giving a slight push to shove him out of the way. "I'd rather not waste more time on you than necessary. Let's be quick about it."

"Like you have anything better to do," Harry hissed without thinking.

He might have been mistaken, but he could swear he caught a glimpse of another smile on Griphook's face as he turned to open the vault.

He decided he liked goblins.

They were fun.

There was a faint, metallic ping as Griphook twisted the vault's key. It was immediately followed by a much louder thud. The vault slowly scraped open, the Hagrid-high doors shuddering and trembling as they slid across the floor. A large cloud of yellowish smoke rolled out of the widening opening. A dim light sprung to life, followed by at least a dozen more. They brightened in intensity until Harry was nearly blinded by piles of shining metal. Finally they died down to a more tolerable level, allowing him to actually see into the vault.

"Really?" Hagrid sighed. "The bloody theatrics and everything?"

Griphook snorted. "I'm not the fool who paid for the vault, am I? We don't even offer that package on this type of vault. It was specially requested."

Hagrid sighed, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody Potters…"

Harry stared into his vault with a look of disbelief on his face. There was gold in there. There was a lot of gold in there. There was so much gold in there that it probably would have given his uncle heart failure if he knew about it.

"The Potter trust vault," Hagrid announced. "It contains funds set aside for your schooling and rearing."

 _And it also contains far too much. No wonder the Dursleys were barely above middle class, even after Grunnings was purchased. What is that barmy old fool thinking?_

Dealing with the Dursleys had been problematic. The rather questionable protections that had been placed on Harry insured that no one with a magical core could interact with neither him nor his relatives directly. Even Hagrid, with his sealed core, couldn't meet them directly until the wards had lifted.

Luckily most wizards considered Muggles so far beneath themselves that they didn't even take them into consideration. Muggle agents, combined with modern technology like video calls, were fairly effective in circumventing the spells. But even then, Hagrid didn't dare to interact with the family more than necessary. He wasn't the only wizard that had experience with the Muggle world, and attracting the wrong sort of attention would be a major issue.

He was under strict instructions to lay low, keep quiet and obediently follow his **other** instructions. He wasn't a fan of it, but understood why it was necessary.

From the look of it, the Dursleys were getting barely enough to pay for his necessities, if that. Being another mouth to feed, it was little wonder Harry had been considered nothing but a burden. Hagrid had no doubt he would have had problems with his relatives anyway, but that had surely added to them.

Harry was a financial burden, and one they clearly didn't like to begin with. So why on the Earth had they kept him at all…?

"This is all mine?"

Griphook released a small, short bark that might have been a laugh. "A coin in the purse."

"Yes, yes, let's be along," Hagrid prompted, sweeping a pile of coins to a sack. "I'd rather not spend more time in this animal's company than needed."

The trio hopped back into the cart where, to Harry's disappointment, Hagrid forcibly slammed his cane down in front of the lever, preventing it from going more than halfway forward. They rolled along at a much more sedate pace, eventually stopping in front of vault seven hundred and thirteen.

Harry examined the keyless door. "How do you open it?"

"Like this," Griphook replied, stroking the door. The thick metal rippled and flowed away like water, vanishing into the walls. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked in and trapped."

"Are there any skulls in there?" Harry asked eagerly.

"They're not worth your time, brat. A piece of rubbish would make a better trophy than the skull of a thief," Griphook growled. Something about his tone suggested it wasn't the polite type of rude.

Hagrid strode back out of the vault carrying a small package. "Bloody nutter and his lemon drops," he muttered, glancing down at Harry.

"Lemon drops? He keeps **lemon drops** in there?"

"Round, gold and highly sought after," Hagrid confirmed, patting the package. "The old man's a bit barmy, lad."

"Oh," Harry said, a bit disappointed. "I thought it would be some kind of super magic thing. Maybe the One Ring or something."

On the way back out Harry 'accidentally' bumped into Hagrid's cane, tapping it to the side before he could stick it in the lever's slot. Griphook gleefully kicked the lever forward again, sending them rocketing down the track.

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

"Bloody goblin humor," Hagrid muttered as he unsteadily walked out the front door of Gringotts.

"I like them. They're fun."

"You're as much of a nutter as they are," Hagrid sighed. Pointing, he continued, "We'd best get your robes, lad. Head down to Madam Malkin's there. I've a quick doddle, but I'll be right around to pay."

Shrugging, Harry headed down the street, pausing every now and then to study one of the more exotic familiars.

Hagrid watched him for a moment, then quietly slipped around behind a building. Once there, he withdrew a small, muggle-style notepad and pen. He quickly jotted down a few words, then watched intently as more appeared on their own. Frowning, he brought the pen up again. The huge man spent several minutes like that, quietly writing in the notepad and reading the words that formed themselves.

Harry, meanwhile, was watching with interest as a tape measure darted around, wrapping or measuring seemingly random parts of his body. He couldn't help but wonder what the distance between his first and third toe had to do with robes, but kept quiet. In theory, the woman here knew more about it than him.

The boy being measured beside him had been watching quietly, obviously assessing him. It was starting to make him a bit uncomfortable by the time the blond said, "Hello. Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harry replied. Unspoken went the thought, _Isn't that a really dumb question? Didn't Hagrid say there was only one school?_

"My mother's up the street buying my books and Father's looking at wands."

"Oh, that's nice. My parents were either brutally murdered or got themselves killed horribly while they were drunk. It depends on who you ask," Harry stated.

The blond stared at him in shock.

"D- do you know what house you'll be in?" he finally asked. "I'll probably be in Slytherin, just like my parents."

 _The hell is a Slytherin?_

"Really, Slytherin?" Harry asked curiously. People were almost always willing to talk more than they were to listen, and hardly ever noticed when you weren't really saying anything at all.

"The house of serpents, clever and ambitious. It fits me to a T," the blond announced proudly.

Harry though for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe I'll be a Slytherin, too. The Adder would be really happy about that, I think."

"The Adder?"

Harry reached into his clothing, shoving his hand under both the robe he was being fitted for and his own sweatshirt. He fished around for a moment before smiling triumphantly. There was an angry hiss as he hauled a thirty-inch snake out of his clothing.

 _Dude, what the hell!?_ it spat.

The blond, suddenly finding himself facing a snake at very short range, recoiled violently. He took a quick step back, caught his foot on a measuring tape that was sizing his achilles tendon for some reason, and went crashing into a stand full of fabric.

 _Ooh, bet he felt that. Man, what a pussy,_ the Adder hissed, locking his eyes on the source of the noise. _Damn, he looks like a poof. Like, big time. You'd think he'd like snakes. Of the trouser variety, of course._

"Be nice," Harry said, lifting the Adder to give him a disapproving look.

 _What? All I'm saying is he's probably played 'Snake In The Grass' a few times. I mean, look at him. He's practically wearing a sign saying 'designated bottom' around his neck._

Sighing, Harry held the snake out towards his companion. The blond frantically tried to crawl further back into the mess of fabric.

"See? This is the Adder. He's an adder."

 _Yeah, no shit._

"He's also kind of a dick," Harry continued. "But he doesn't bite people, so you don't have to worry about that. Do you want to hold him?"

 _What!? No fucking way! Do you have any idea where those hands might have been?_

"No! No thank you. I'm good!"

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. He was holding the Adder by the tail and swinging it back and forth. Each time it reached the end of its arc, the other young wizard flinched away.

 _Whee~!_

"I'd rather not. Really," the blonde said quickly. "I- I mean, thanks anyway, but no. I don't like snakes very much."

 _Wow. What a little pus-_

The Adder's remark was cut off as Harry shoved him back into his shirt. "Oh. Okay. Isn't that a little weird, though? You just said you wanted to go into the snake house."

Still staring up at him warily, the blonde mumbled, "That doesn't mean I have to like snakes. I-"

"Draco! What are you doing on the ground?" someone snapped from the room's entrance.

Turning, Harry examined the man striding into the room. He looked almost exactly like Draco, but with a considerably more adult face and build. He was wearing an open shirt with ruffles at the edges. Over it he wore a black and silver overcoat. His smooth, belted pants hung low on one side, revealing quite a bit of hip.

 _Holy shit,_ the Adder hissed from where he was peeking out around Harry's neck. _I take it back._ _ **He**_ _looks like a poof._

Absently, Harry nodded.

Draco quickly scrambled to his feet, knocking another display over in his haste to rise. "I'm sorry, father. I… I tripped over the tape."

"Have some class, Draco," Draco's father scolded. He snapped open a folding fan and began fanning his face. With his other hand he held a black and silver cane covered in serpent patterns. "Malfoys do **not** crawl around on a filthy shop floor."

 _Wow. Bet you never thought you'd be glad your daddy's dead,_ the Adder hissed in his ear.

Harry nodded again.

"Oh, what do we have here?" the Malfoy patriarch cooed. He leaned down and began studying Harry's face from a distance that was far too close to be comfortable. "Such a lovely face. You really should take better care of yourself, darling. A little touch up and you'd be gorgeous. I could point you towards a wonderful shop, if you'd like."

Harry tried to subtly shuffle backward. "No. No, I think I'm good. Thanks, though."

"Very well. Some people do look quite nice au natural. Perhaps you'll grow into your beauty... Yes, give it a few years and I think you'll be spectacular," the wizard sighed. "My name is Lucius Malfoy, but you may call me Luscious. All my friends do. If you ever want some pointers, feel free to send me an owl."

"I- I wouldn't want to put you out…"

"Nonsense. Cultivating beauty is its own reward," Luscious declared, fanning himself. "Speaking of which, I'm afraid Draco and I must go. I saw a necklace that he must absolutely must try on. I'm certain it'll look fantastic."

"Father, I don't need a-" Draco tried to protest as he was pulled out of the room.

Luscious snapped his fan closed and gave his son a light rap to the head. "Nonsense. You're a Malfoy. We can't have you looking like a pauper. Oh, and there was a lovely pair of earrings!"

Harry watched them leave, warily following their progress until they were out of sight. He waited a few breathless seconds and, when they didn't come back, finally relaxed.

"Wow. That happened."

 _I swear, my sphincter closed up tighter than Fort Knox._

"This world is a frightening and terrifying place. I had no ideas such horrors existed," Harry declared in a weak whisper.

 _I can't even get raped and I almost shat myself,_ the Adder said. _Wait… Snakes are rape-proof, right? I mean, who rapes a snake?_

"I dunno. Someone that **really** likes snakes, I guess."

Thankfully, Harry managed to finish and receive his robes without any more emotional trauma. Hagrid, true to his word, arrived just in time to pay for the clothing.

"I really wish you could have come sooner, Hagrid. Please don't leave me alone again," Harry pleaded. "There was this guy. This really, really freaky guy. He was-"

"-Lucius Malfoy?" Hagrid finished. "Harry, you should stay away from that bloke. He's dangerous."

"Yeah, no kidding. The Adder almost crapped himself. Neither of us would've like that."

"No, lad, I meant he's a dark wizard. He practices… Wait, the Adder?"

Without a word, Harry reached into his shirt and hauled the Adder out again.

 _What the hell man!? Again!? Did you seriously do that again!?_

Hagrid studied the serpent. "Vipera berus. The common European Viper. You… had a snake in your clothing. You've had that with you the whole time?"

 _'That?' Wow, what a prick. You woke me up for this?_

"He's not a 'that,' Hagrid. He's the Adder. He's my friend," Harry scolded.

"Harry, that- He is a dangerous creature. They have been known to bite, and their venom is quite unpleasant. It would be best if you put him down," Hagrid said slowly.

Harry held the Adder up. "The Adder isn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt you unless you deserve it, and he wouldn't hurt me at all. Besides, the poison isn't that dangerous. It just made Aunt Petunia really sick."

"It bit your Aunt?" Hagrid exclaimed.

 _Call me 'it' again and I'm gonna bite the stupid off your face. That'd suck, because I'm pretty sure I'd run out of bite before you ran out of stupid._

"It wasn't his fault. She tried to hurt one of his friends. He wanted to tell her it wasn't a good idea," Harry explained, deciding to gloss over exactly **who** she tried to hurt. "My aunt and uncle can't listen right, so he bit her instead. It's okay, though. I explained why he shouldn't bite people."

 _Lucky thing she's a huge bitch. No problem biting dogs._

Hagrid examined the young wizard. "Harry… are you saying you can speak to snakes?"

 _Did this dude eat paint chips or something?_ the Adder whispered in his ear. _Does he think you explain things to snakes via interpretive dance?_

Harry nodded. "Yeah. A few years ago some grass snakes started swearing at me while I was gardening. Grass snakes can have nasty little mouths. So I found a bunch of other snakes, and I could talk to them too. They're a lot nicer than people."

"I see. Lad, it would be best if you didn't talk to him where people can see you," Hagrid said. "It wouldn't do for people to see you conversing with a snake."

 _Wow. Stupid and racist. You got the whole package on this one._

Harry lifted his hand to his neck and allowed the Adder to slip off. The snake wound around his neck and proceeded to glare at Hagrid.

"They're my friends, Hagrid. Why shouldn't I talk to them?"

"The ability to speak with snakes has long been associated with nutters and lags. If others were to find out you possessed it, they would likely judge you unfairly," Hagrid explained. "You don't have to stop speaking with them, but be cautious about who you do it around."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded.

 _Buncha pricks. Don't worry, weird-snake-with-four-tails. If anyone messes with you, I'll give them an apple. Every snake knows apples are human Kryptonite, which is kind of sad,_ the Adder declared. _Seriously, who the hell loses immortality because they ate a fruit?_

 _Just bite them. It's easier,_ Harry hissed. Noting Hagrid looking at him curiously, he plastered an innocent expression on his face and said, "Sorry. I was telling the Adder to behave. They listen to me more when I use the hissy voice."

 _Holy shit. You better keep your mouth away from the blonde guy. You'll probably explode,_ the Adder hissed. It came out as the weird sound Harry's brain interpreted as laughter. _Eat a fruit? Get it?_

 _Yeah, I got it. Thanks for reminding me about that. I'm really hoping I'm just getting a year's worth of emotional trauma out of the way today._

Poor Harry. If wishes were wings, we'd all be crushed under a suffocating pile of feathered meat.

The next couple of hours were interesting, but not spectacular. Shopping was, without exception, one of the most mind-numbing activities in existence. The only thing that made it tolerable was the variety of odd things he was expected to have. Even then, he was on the verge of complete cognitive shutdown by the time they entered Ollivander's wand shop.

The proprietor himself was probably a 7 on the Freaky-As-A-Malfoy scale. The enthusiastic wandmaker nearly caught a foot to the bollocks when he reached out to touch Harry's scar. Something about an older man reaching out toward his face while holding thirteen inches of wood in his other hand thoroughly disturbed Harry.

Trying to find the right wand was more interesting than anything but Gringotts, but also a bit annoying. He produced faint sparks, a burst of confetti, some vile magical farts, and filled the room with a smell akin to burning cheese, among other things. It seemed like, try as they might, they simply couldn't find the right wand for him.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now… Yes, why not? It's an unusual combination, holly and-"

There was a sudden crash as a stack of used wands hit the floor. The impact jarred several boxes open, sending wands clattering across the floor.

"Oh dear. How very embarrassing. I'm terribly sorry," Hagrid said, looking sheepishly down at what was left of the pile he'd knocked over.

Ollivander examined the fallen wands, then shrugged. "No matter. They're nothing but used wands, nearly worthless. I only keep them for the foolish or desperate. I'll simply clean them up once we're finished here."

"No, no. I insist," Hagrid said as he scooped up a handful of the wands. Frowning, he pointed at a wand laying by Harry's feet. "Lad, could you grab that for me?"

Harry obediently leaned down and grabbed the wand.

It **burned**. It was like he'd grabbed a rod of red hot iron, but it didn't hurt at all.

"This one," Harry said immediately. "I want this one."

"I would recommend against that, Mr. Potter. Each wizard has a single wand that is meant for them. Using one that belonged to another wizard is like entering a footrace while missing a foot," Ollivander cautioned. "It will never be as well-suited for you as it should be."

"This one," Harry insisted.

"Very well. Please allow me," Ollivander sighed, plucking the wand from Harry's grasp. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. "How very odd. This doesn't appear to be one of mine."

"Is that even possible?" Hagrid asked, eyeing the wand curiously.

Running a finger up and down the wand, Ollivander replied. "Very possibly, Mr. Hagrid. I am certainly not the only wandmaker in the world. I am not even the only wandmaker in England. Another's work does, on occasion, end up in my shop."

"Are you certain it isn't yours?"

Ollivander gave Hagrid an insulted look. "I remember every wand I've ever made. Even if I didn't, I could certainly tell you that I didn't make this," Ollivander insisted. "Ash, twelve and a quarter inches. The core is made from the blood of a Balrog and hair from a Nightmare's mane. I'd be amazed if the creator didn't sear his hand into a useless lump while making this."

"Does that mean it's dangerous?" Harry asked eagerly, accepting the wand back from Ollivander.

"Not particularly. Even a typical wand can turn a man's blood to acid or conjure a bed of razors beneath him. This wand is simply dangerous in a different way. It is made to pour out power with a minimal amount of control, and there is no doubt in my mind it has a penchant for destruction," Ollivander replied. "The risk of harming yourself or another accidentally will almost certainly be considerably higher. I would strongly recommend choosing a different wand."

Harry frowned, then whipped his arm out as he'd done with the other wands. The tip immediately flared to life, engulfed in a brilliant pinpoint of scarlet light. It carved a red arc in the air as it went. The crimson slash hung there, remaining for a fraction of a second even after Harry completed the swing.

"Wicked," Harry whispered, staring at the tip of the wand.

Ollivander regarded the wand curiously as Harry lowered it. "How curious. I don't think I've ever seen a used wand take to someone that well. There was quite a bit of power there but, as I suspected, little control."

Harry turned to look at Hagrid, a pleading expression on his face.

"I don't know, lad," Hagrid said, rubbing his chin. "The gentleman is an expert. If he say the wand is nutters, he's most likely right."

"But I didn't like any of the others," Harry protested. "They didn't feel nice like this one. It's warm and tingly."

Curious, Hagrid reached out and touched the wand. He felt wood, only wood, and it was neither warm nor tingly. "There's sure to be another that suits you well."

"I am reluctant to say this, but you are most likely wrong. It's obvious that wand is quite enamored with Mr. Potter, while the others were disinterested at best," Ollivander said with a frown.

Hagrid sighed and conceded, "Very well. Just be careful, understand? It sounds like that thing could be trouble if you mug it off."

"Don't worry. I won't turn anyone's blood to acid."

Ollivander nodded in agreement. "Yes, that is unlikely. Accidentally causing a spectacular explosion is much more likely. To avoid that, I will make a very unusual suggestion. I would never recommend it normally, but it may be best if you purchase a second wand."

Hagrid gave him a surprised look. "Why in the world would the lad to that? Wizards that brag about using two wands are all piss and wind."

"Because that wand's performance is lopsided enough to make it of questionable use. It will withstand power that would shatter a normal wand, but will fumble spells of even moderate complexity. It will most likely start causing trouble in Mr. Potter's second year, and a great many spells above third year will be nearly impossible to cast," Ollivander answered. "There is also the minor fact that it will most likely cause any potion that is stirred with it to detonate in an impressive variety of ways. I doubt you'd want to be nearby when he tries to brew a Draught of Living Death."

"Oh dear."

"Yes. As unconventional as it is, Mr. Potter would not exactly be casting with two wands. One moment." Ollivander vanished into the back of the sort. There came an assortment of banging and shuffling sounds, then he reappeared with a box. Opening it, he removed a silvery wand. "Twelve and three-quarters. Birch. It has a core of quartz and pure alpine water. They're often made as practice for a novice wandmaker. They're also very rarely sold to those seeking a replacement wand and unable to find one suitable for their needs."

Harry took the wand and bounced it experimentally, then frowned in confusion. "It barely even feels like it's there."

"Exactly. Practice wands such as that will accept any wizard, favor neither power nor control, and will perform slightly below average in every application. They are completely neutral in every way and completely useless for almost every wizard," Ollivander explained. "You will be able to use any spell effectively using it, though not quite to your full ability."

Harry gave the wand an experimental swoosh. It left a trail of small, shimmering particles that slowly drifted to the ground and vanished.

"You could have a hundred wizards do that and the result for all would be the same."

Harry scowled at the birch wand. Shifting it to his off hand, he swept the ash wand through the air, tearing another glowing arc through it. His scowl immediately vanished, replaced with a happy grin.

"Well then, I suppose that's settled," Hagrid declared.

In the end, Harry and Hagrid left Ollivander's with both the ash wand and the birch wand. They managed to get out of it cheap as well, having been simply given the ash wand.

("It's not like I'll be selling it, but no wand deserves to be simply discarded.")

After they left, Ollivander spent a full minute staring at the sloppy pile of used wand boxes. No matter how he wracked his mind, he couldn't figure out where that thing had come from. Why would he even buy something so absurdly useless? Who would even make it to begin with?

Sighing in annoyance, he chastised himself and decided he'd have to pay more attention to the wands he hadn't made.

Like all good things, Harry's trip to Diagon Alley eventually came to an end. He was, however, left with quite a few impressive memories to sustain him until he left for Hogwarts. Oddly enough, some of the mundane ones were as good as, or even better than, the magical ones.

He never quite got the chance to ask Hagrid why there was a beautiful, white SUV waiting just out of sight down the street as they left the playground portal. He didn't really have the chance to ask why the driver got out to open the door for them. It was only as the vehicle was pulling away from the Dursley home that he realized that, despite the time they'd spent together, he really hadn't learned much about Hagrid.

Actually, the only thing he did know…

 _Young master. Why would you call someone that? Why would you do it and be so happy? Being a servant isn't much better than being a slave, so why…?_

Still, the sight of Vernon's face as the driver opened the door and helped him out of the SUV was priceless, and would warm his heart for years to come.

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Author's Note

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

I'm rewriting all these old notes as I go through proofreading and reformatting old chapters. Why am I doing that? Because apparently I don't value my own time nearly as much as I should.

I really wanted to launch into a long rant about FFNet right here, but I'll spare you the details. Long story short is that FFNet fucking sucks. They deliberately destroy anything they don't consider "proper" formatting by omitting characters and line breaks, limiting what characters can be used and generally acting like a sack of douche. A chapter that looks just fine in the doc editor can come out the other side as a total mess.

I realized this something like ten chapters in, when I went to go back and reference something in an earlier chapter. Lo and behold, there was a line of the Adder's dialogue that wasn't in italics. No, wait, **all** of the Adder's dialogue was italic-free. It made a mess of the text, and made it a little unclear exactly what was supposed be going on.

Plus, it pissed the Adder off. That's not a good thing. You don't fuck with the Adder.

Speaking of which, the Adder is probably my favorite addition to this version of SF. He's actually from another story I started a while ago – called "S is for Snek" – that I abandoned before it got off the ground. He since evolved a bit to become an important part of SF. He's kind of a dick, as Harry noted, and has the incredible power to defy all logic in any way that doesn't directly impact the plot.

Anyway, during the reformat I noticed several glaring errors. I figured I'd take this chance to try and hunt down as many as I could. No promises I'll get them all, though, because you wouldn't believe how hard editing your own work is. I already know what everything is supposed to say, so I to read what I mean to say and not what is actually there.

Hey, look, a coherent and useful Author's Note!

I wouldn't' get used to them, as how much sense they make is heavily dependent on how much sleep and liquor I've had recently.


	2. He Came Adder Nowhere

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Chapter Two

"He Came Adder Nowhere"

AKA

"Twin Twins, Twin Trunks""

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Seated at the workbench in the back corner of his cabin, Hagrid carefully cleaned his cane.

For a normal person that wouldn't entail much more than a bit of water and a rag. Maybe they'd even break out some wood polish if they were feeling particularly adventurous. Five minutes - perhaps ten at the outside - and they'd be ready to head off to the pub.

It should go without saying that Hagrid didn't fall under the label of 'normal person' in any way at all.

Cleaning his lord's last gift was an all-evening affair. It had to be disassembled. Each individual part was carefully inspected for damage, cleaned, oiled and polished. This task was further complicated by the sheer number of parts involved, a vast array of metal bits and bobs that covered nearly the entire bench. There was considerably more than there should be and, at a glance, there was no obvious way they could fit together to produce a cane.

It was certainly an odd quality to have in a gift from a muggle, but the muggle in question had been quite odd himself. His travels made him privy to some bits of information he definitely shouldn't have, many of which would send the government screaming for the Obliviators.

Relentlessly pursuing death had become something of a family pastime over the years. Following his lord, Hagrid had most likely been nearly killed by unnatural beasts and curses more than any ten other wizards. It never ceased to amaze him that the patriarchal line still existed, especially since their distant cousins in America were just as bad.

Then again, for all Hagrid knew, they might all be dead. It had been quite a while since the families had been in contact.

Somehow "It belongs in a museum!" didn't mesh well with "It belongs in my foyer!" at all. Several bribes later the family estate was officially dubbed a national museum, a fact that didn't go over well with the other parties involved. Their last meeting had gone quite poorly, ending in the words, "Stay on your side of the world, you bloody Yank, or I'll see which end of that whip goes in easier!" and several very vulgar motions.

"What's that donkey buggering lot's problem? It's a foyer **and** a museum. It's the best of both worlds, like… damn, what did you call them? Oh yes! Ladyboys! On an unrelated note, pack the liquor and ammo! We're off to Thailand!"

When they were off and about, cleaning his armaments was one of the few moments of quiet and relaxation he could get. Whatever else you might say about him, his lord understood the importance of maintaining his tools and respected anyone who did the same. Unless it was absolutely necessary he wouldn't disturb Hagrid while he was working on them. It was one of the few times he could count on being undisturbed, and had become almost meditative for him. He had taken to breaking down a firearm whenever he needed a short break, or as a sort of therapy when he was irritated.

He was irritated.

The headmaster was obviously planning something. Why else would he ensure Harry saw the package containing the stone? This business about keeping it in the school behind 'protections' that hardly warranted the title was even more suspicious. If he really believed Tom Riddle wasn't dead, he would obviously realize Hagrid's old chum was considerably more dangerous than he'd let on. Cheating death was the sort of thing that took **very** powerful magic and most means of doing it were incredibly Dark.

No one seemed to know what the heck Albus was plotting. Not even Devil knew, which was very worrying. They, at the very least, always knew what the short-term plan was. The fact that Albus was playing things this close to his chest didn't bode well. Unfortunately they had been getting less and less information lately, and what they did get was confusing to say the least.

Dumbledore's obvious irritation that Harry had received the 'wrong' wand had been clear, though the exact reason wasn't clear. His disapproval that the boy had met Draco and - even worse, Lucius - was equally obvious, but understandable. The fact that the goblins had taken a liking to the boy had been met with an annoyed look, like Hagrid was admitting to piddling on the floor. Most wizards would see that as a good thing (the goblins, not the piddle), but were just too stupid, ignorant or bigoted to figure out how to achieve it.

It was probably a good thing he didn't mention the promise he'd made the boy on their way back home. It was never too young to start, after all, and there didn't seem any harm since the boy already had a stick that could set people on fire. Quite spectacularly, if Ollivander was to be believed. But fire-stick or no fire-stick, Hagrid was more than happy to steer Harry away from completely abandoning the mundane world like so many muggleborn do. The fact that young boys were attracted to loud booms just made it that much easier.

Devil and Emperor had, unsurprisingly, agreed to help achieve that end. They had been nearly as incensed as Hagrid when Harry had been quietly shuffled out of sight. The fact that both understood the long-term effects of their actions so well was probably the only reason the school was still standing after that. Neither was as powerful as Albus alone, or possibly even together, but any conflict like that was sure to leave a large crater behind.

That was the problem with wandering around acting like you're the supreme authority on everything, and expecting everyone to blindly follow you because of it. Sooner or later you were bound to find someone that disagreed. They were less common than you'd like to think, since most would rather someone else did the work anyway, but there was more than a few of them. When you finally did run into one, an attitude like that was bound to piss them off.

Once upon a time, both Emperor and Devil had been quite loyal to the headmaster's cause. A few too many trespasses 'for their own good' had changed that.

It was likely whatever Dumbledore was plotting would happen soon. The old man could only live so much longer. The fact the he thought Riddle was still around needed to be considered as well. Whatever else might be said about him, Albus wasn't one to jump at shadows. The idea that a dead wanna-be Dark Lord was still running about wasn't any more ridiculous than some of the other rumors.

Nodding in satisfaction, Hagrid slid the final component home. It was considerably longer than the cane was wide, but that hardly mattered. Such things had been normal for him long ago. After his time with his master, he was probably more accustomed to such obvious oddities than most wizards.

It was really quite amusing.

In their travels Hagrid had also learned how important proper planning was. It could often be the line separating victory and defeat. Proper maintenance was vital, even if he didn't think he'd be using it anytime soon. After all, you never knew when someone might need a little 'convincing' to make the right choice.

Hagrid smiled as he twisted, producing a loud click. It wasn't a particularly nice smile, but it was certainly a happy one. The half-giant was almost hoping Albus was right about Tom. He'd be quite happy if the old boy would be his 'chum' once again, but this time friendship would have nothing to do with it.

They'd all look quite silly if Strength showed up unprepared for that.

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

 _It is to my great regret that I am unable to see you off myself. Unfortunately, there are matters that I am duty-bound to attend to. The man bearing the note has been instructed to bring you to King's Cross Station. He will assist you in transporting your belongings to Platform Nine and return here immediately._

 _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is located between Platforms Nine and Ten_. _Simply approach the barrier between them at good speed. Ensure you are travelling faster than a brisk walk, else you shall strike the stone. Move forward without fear, do not slow, and simply pass through the barrier as if it were not there._

 _I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts._

 _With my best regards,_

 _Rubeus Hagrid._

Harry stared down at the note, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The man bearing it had looked pretty legitimate, and had in fact driven him to King's Cross Station. The script was very precise and refined. It was exactly the sort of handwriting he could imagine Hagrid having. It was written on heavy vellum paper that wasn't at all the sort of thing someone would use for a prank.

Turning his suspicious gaze upward, he swept it across the station. There wasn't anyone loitering around that looked any more suspect than your average traveler. There was also a distinct lack of bushes for someone with a camera to hide in, unless they could conceal themselves behind a potted plant. In fact, there was a notable lack of cameras in general.

That struck him as very odd. He hadn't ever actually done any travelling, but he was under the impression that it was the sort of thing people liked to take pictures of. But perhaps he was wrong, because not a single person in sight had a camera, video camera or phone out.

Still, it might be best to hang out and check things out. He had almost an hour before the train was due to leave. There was never any harm in being cautious, especially when not doing so would result in colliding with a concrete wall at high speed. It was likely he wasn't the only student leaving from here, so someone was bound to go for the wall eventually.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long at all.

 _Holy crap. Who imported the carrot patch?_ the Adder hissed quietly.

Harry turned his head slightly and subtly searched the area the Adder was examining. As the snake had rather impolitely indicated, a large group of redheads were travelling down the length of the station. Six of them were approaching and - judging by the children's luggage and the Mother's lack of such - the kids were most likely being shipped off somewhere.

 _Damn, if we tried to play connect the dots on their faces, we'd be here all week._

Harry sighed as he sat on his trunk, watching the group. Not for the first time he thanked the gods for the fact that no one else could understand the Adder.

 _Oh, dude, check out the big one! That's a really rusty roof, but you'd have to be damn desperate to see how wet the basement is._ _Wait. It's probably more like an underground city than a basement if she popped all those out._

Shaking his head, Harry continued to study them as they stopped between Platforms Nine and Ten.

Score.

One of the boys - probably the oldest - approached the barrier, building up speed until he was moving at a brisk pace. Without the faintest sign of hesitation, he plowed into the concrete wall. There was a slight ripple as he hit it, slid into it and vanished from sight.

 _Houston, we are go for launch,_ the Adder announced. _Can I ride on your head?_

"No. You'll fall off," Harry immediately replied, hopping off his trunk and grabbing the trolley's handle. Pushing at it, he started to accelerate across the station floor. He turned slightly, aiming for the empty space next to the woman, and really threw his weight into it. Ideally, he'd be up to speed by the time he got to her.

She was shifting uncomfortably, as if she was reluctant to be here. Her eyes moved back and forth, clearly searching the area around the barrier for something. At the same time they kept darting back the way she had come. She clearly wanted to be here for something but, at the same time, really wanted to get the hell out of there.

 _I never get to ride on your head. Can we at least surf through on the trunk?_

Harry considered that for a moment before replying, "Yes. Yes we can."

Shoving even harder, he forced himself to accelerate the trolley faster than could reasonably safe. Satisfied with the speed, he quickly scrambled over the handle, hopped onto the trunk and stood, spreading his feet into a wide stance. As was morally obligated in a situation like this, he spread his arms wide.

Hearing the approaching cart, the red-headed mother turned to look at him. Seeing his face, her expression immediately brightened. "Hello dear, do you need help-"

Her greeting died suddenly as she registered what she was seeing.

"No thanks!" Harry shouted as he thundered past her. "I think I got it!"

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to save himself, to dive off his impromptu vehicle before he hit the wall. He had to steel himself and deny every survival instinct in his body. Instead of jumping he set his feet and dropped lower, mastering his fear and shutting down his mind's every attempt to save him. His mind was a pussy anyway. He had just seen someone go through the wall, so there was absolutely no way anything could go wrong.

Harry's luggage sled met the wall and slipped through it just as expected.

What kind of plan? A perfect plan, that's what kind. A perfect and **awesome** plan!

The phantom barricade, of course, failed to stop - or even slow - the high-speed trolley in a way only a phantom barricade could manage. There wasn't the least bit of resistance.

Harry was a little interested to learn that phantom barricade tasted like week-old grape Starburst. It struck him as an odd thing for a phantom wall to taste like. Actually, a phantom wall tasting like anything seemed a bit odd. It was a phenomenon he decided to investigate later.

Unfortunately, Harry's experiments in illusionary taste would never occur. This was because the thought was superseded 0.73 seconds later by something more important.

Harry suddenly realized that there may have been a flaw in his perfect plan.

 _Oh shit,_ the Adder hissed, his eyes widening in shock.

"Oh shit," Harry gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

Somehow, during the twelve seconds he had spent planning the masterful maneuver, it hadn't occurred to him that there might be things that were very much non-phantom on the other side of the phantom wall.

"I regret everything."

The poor bastard that had the audacity to be standing in what was clearly a 'ballistic trunks only' zone had just enough time to look up and say, "Oh, shit," before the makeshift battering ram hit. There was a terrible crash as Harry slammed into his trolley and sent him sprawling to the ground. The trunk jerked violently beneath him, and suddenly everyone was standing on the ceiling.

 _Oh crap! Floor! Floor!_ the Adder hissed.

Oh, that made a whole lot more sense. Harry actually felt silly for that brief, irrational idea that everyone else was upside down. Clearly he was flying through the air at an improbable speed, tumbling arse over teakettle. It was a much more reasonable situation than his first thought, which had been quite foolish. He consoled himself with the fact that it wasn't a situation a person often found themselves in and, therefore, a bit of confusion wasn't strange.

It was actually quite cool. The only thing that sucked some of the fun out of it was the fact that he was pretty sure he knew how the flight would end. The ground was already rushing up at him. It was remarkably clean for the floor of a train platform. It was kind of comforting to know he wouldn't be licking a dirty floor when his face shattered on it.

At the last instant there was a sudden flash of black cloth. Arms wrapped around him as his rescuer let out a triumphant cry. Harry's momentum brought them both down, but the young wizard's impact was cushioned by his savior's body. They hit the floor with a thump and Harry - his momentum not quiet bled off - tumbled across the floor. He quickly twisted and rolled, smoothly coming to his feet and taking several steps forward, as if the entire maneuver had been planned.

Sighing, Harry turned to thank his classmate for the impressive save.

An older girl was laying on the ground, staring up at her small group of companions with a stunned look on her face. Taking in the shocked and worried looks on her friends' faces, all Harry could do was say, "Huh."

Apparently the girl hadn't meant to save him at all.

Either way, it had ended up working out. He was perfectly fine and the witch didn't look much more than dazed. He should probably thank her anyway.

Harry's trunk chose exactly that moment to drop from the sky like a wooden meteor. There was just enough time for the poor witch's eyes to widen in shocked realization. Her mouth opened, the beginning of a scream forming there, but she didn't even manage to voice it. All she got out was a short yelp as a split-second of horror overwhelmed her mind.

And then the trunk overwhelmed her face, which probably made her forget all about being scared. It hit with a sound that made Harry really hope her parents were paid up on their medical insurance. The sound her head made as it collided with the floor an instant later caused Harry to decide life insurance might be a little more applicable.

"Oh my God! Cho!" one of the girls shrieked. Harry momentarily found himself wondering if she dyed her hair, or if it really was that black. Then the screams started and he decided it was probably irrelevant.

Everyone was so busy looking at the prone witch that they didn't even seem to notice his trunk grinding to a stop beside him. Harry took a quick look around, one thought in his mind:

"What should I do? Should I help?"

 _Screw that,_ the Adder replied. _Just make it someone else's problem. That sounds a lot easier._

That did sound a lot easier.

Harry took another look around and spotted a trunk and trolley pair nearby. The owner - who looked vaguely familiar - was a little ways off and just engrossed watching the screaming, panicked group as everyone else. Instantly forming a plan, Harry quietly grabbed the trolley and wheeled it away. Once he decided he had gone far enough, he gave the trunk a solid boot. It spilled to the ground with a quiet thump that made him wince, but no one seemed to notice. Deciding he was in the clear, Harry shrugged and flipped his trunk onto the repossessed trolley.

And then he walked away. Whistling nonchalantly, of course.

The shouting began a moment later. His victim's friends had obviously begun looking for someone to blame and - reasonably - had settled on the one gaping wizard standing there without a trunk. For a moment Harry felt bad, but then he remembered one of the many pearls of wisdom his serpentine friends had imparted on him:

 _A good hunter never feels mercy for its prey._

He was pretty sure the advice didn't actually apply here, since he hadn't been hunting at all. He was also 98% certain snakes weren't the best source of life lessons. They probably wouldn't deliberately steer him wrong, but it seemed reasonable to assume they followed a set of morals that didn't apply to human society.

Of course, it was a well-demonstrated fact that human society was full of assholes. Besides, the snakes assured him they were reliable, reasonable and the ideal source of advice. They were in a position to know, right?

And anyway, snakes only hurt things when they had to, as opposed to doing it for fun, so they might have a better moral compass to begin with. They had no interest in things like Harry Hunting when they could be doing more important things like laying in the sun. The only time he'd seen one go out of its way to hurt something when they weren't hungry or threatened was when one of his grass snakes was provoked into biting Dudley on the bollocks one night.

That had only happened once. The poor snake had eventually recovered, but was left with mental scars that would likely never fade. The injured party insisted to this day that it was worth it, and that he'd likely do it again if he figured out a way to get the taste out of his mouth.

Without so much as a backwards glance, Harry casually walked away from the crowd.

 _Holy shit,_ the Adder suddenly hissed. _Would you look at the scales on that…_

Harry turned to observe a witch shouldering her way out of the small melee. Coiled around her neck was a small snake with shining, emerald green scales.

"Wow. She is pretty."

 _Pretty? She's hotter than Satan's asshole after a $40 Taco Bell binge. Be a bro and give me a lift, would ya?_

Sighing, Harry raised his arm and held out his hand. The Adder uncoiled from his upper arm and quickly slid down his arm. Taking another look at the female snake, he hissed happily and curled up into a ball.

"Just don't bite anyone and don't get stepped on."

 _Yes mommy. I'll be a good little snake._

Shaking his head, Harry tossed the Adder up and down a few times, as if gauging his weight. Satisfied, he wound up and hurled the snake into the air.

 _Fu~ck yea~h!_ the Adder let loose a snakey roar as he flew.

Harry's aim, as usual, was true. Just before he hit the Adder uncoiled, landing on the witch's shoulders with the slightest thump.

 _Hey, baby. You come here often?_

The witch, obviously having felt him land, turned to give her shoulder a curious look. Upon seeing the Adder, she immediately froze.

 _Yo, you mind? I'm trying to get some action here,_ the Adder complained.

" **Snake!** " the witch let loose a panicked scream. She quickly grabbed the Adder by the face, turned, and hurled him into the air.

 _The hell? There's a freaking snake around your neck!_ the airborne serpent pointed out. _What is wrong with you, you stupid- Oh, dude! Coming in for a landing! You might want to cover your-_

There was a pained howl as Adder met crotch. Harry winced reflexively, covering his junk in sympathetic pain. The Adder, despite his size, could hit really hard.

 _Never mind._

The boy stumbled back and tried to grab the Adder as he slid down his leg. Unfortunately, during his awkward flailing he managed to kick a large, grey cat. It probably would have been fine if it ended there, but the aggrieved animal immediately launched itself at the offending wizard, scaled his robes and began assaulting his face. The boy panicked and grabbed his feline assailant by the back of the neck. With one good heave it became the third land-bound animal to fly that morning.

There was a cry of surprise and pain as it slammed straight into a witch's face, followed immediately by a dog's angry bark. The noise immediately began to spread as a mixture of shouts and various animal sounds filled the air. The crowd was quite obviously working up into a frenzy.

For some reason, all Harry could think of was the barroom brawls in old cowboy movies. Two men would get into a fight and a third man would get punched on accident. He'd throw a bottle at their heads, but miss and hit someone else. Very soon the entire room would be involved in a massive fight.

That seemed to be exactly what was happening here, only with young wizards and dangerous animals instead of cowboys and liquor.

Harry looked around quickly, searching for a way to nip this in the bud, but found nothing.

Where the hell were all the adults?

"Damn. I gotta admit, I'm kind of jealous," a voice said from behind him and to the right.

Harry started and made a surprised noise at the comment, whirling.

There was an older boy casually sitting on Harry's own trunk, legs dangling off the side. He was pretty easily identified as one of the boys Harry had watched go through the barrier. The red hair and freckles would have given it away, even if the other half of his set wasn't flopped across the trolley's handle.

"Yeah. I mean, we didn't manage to start a riot until halfway through the year," the second said. "Way to make a guy feel inadequate, buddy."

Harry looked back and forth between them with an angelic, innocent expression. "What do you mean?"

The redhead leaning on the trolley's handle snorted and laughed. "Oh man, that's pretty good."

"Don't bother. We saw you knock Ced on his ass and paste Chang with your trunk. Damn good aim, that. We're impressed."

"Hell yes. The snake was a nice touch, too. Was that Plan B?" The redhead pushed himself away from the handle and straightened. As he did, Harry's eyes widened. The wizard had a small, fluffy tail hanging limply of of the front of his pants. "Pretty good backup there. I woulda gone with the snake first, but you can't fault an artist for having different taste."

"So… you're not going to turn me in?"

The twins glanced at each other, then started laughing.

"Turn you in? Are you kidding?"

"That was awesome. Artistic chaos at its finest."

"I'm George, kid. Trust me when I say it's a name that causes those that love rules and order to tremble in their britches," George declared. "I'd set fire to issue #121 of Witches Gone Wild before I turned you in."

The other redhead gasped. "Not issue #121! That's the one with the thing and the other thing doing things!"

"And that's my brother, Fred. I'm the brains of the operation and he's the stupidity. It's a bad combination."

Harry looked at George curiously. "Why?"

"Because I come up with bad ideas, and he convinces me we should do it."

Fred nodded solemnly. "It is prophesied that we shall free this world from the tyrannical grip of cruel and boring order. Our duty, as acolytes of chaos, is too spread confusion and discord to all we touch."

"Ah, yeah…" Harry mumbled. He was starting to wonder if he should be backing away. George seemed to anticipating exactly that, because at some point during his brother's declaration he had slipped around behind him and cut off is escape.

"Now, now. None of that. He's kidding, of course. You'd have to be a Grade A dumbass to buy that prophecy crap. It's all bullshit," George soothed.

"If you run away from every nutter wizard you come across, you're not gonna stop anytime soon," Fred added.

"A little joke is certainly no reason to run when the most intelligent, most creative, and above all most handsomest wizard in Hogwarts has decided to adopt you as his protégé. Anyway, running isn't an option. We **are** going to the same school."

"Exactly. Not that the adoption is optional to begin with. I mean, technically it is optional, but I wouldn't recommend skipping out on it," Fred added with a menacing giggle. "My exceptional brother was wrong on one point, however. While we are both exceptionally comely, I'm clearly the handsome twin. I'm the fun one too, so you shall be my protégé. George is a man of simple tastes and could never understand the magnificence of a perfectly aimed trunk. Your talents would be wasted on him."

"Fred would never properly appreciate your creative use of available equipment. Why, he's so foolish that he doesn't even grasp the perfect curve of my jaw. It should be obvious that I'm far more attractive."

"Ha! It seems you failed to take into account the wonderful set of my eyes."

"But have you noticed how my freckles are perfectly spaced?"

"Surely you jest. My freckles are far superior. Don't you see how they're precisely aligned as defined by trans-temporal recursive reverse paradox geometric theory?"

The two stared at each other. They were both wearing identical looks of confusion.

"George? Buddy? What the hell was that?" Fred demanded.

"I honestly have no idea," George admitted. "It just kind of popped into my head. Y'know, like someone put it there."

Harry examined him for a second, then shuffled a few steps back toward Fred.

"Ha! My firstie! Mine!" Fred cheered. The tail hanging from his pants - which Harry had completely forgotten about - sprang to attention.

Harry's gaze drifted down to the furry appendage. It was pointing out at a nearly perpendicular angle. If he was forced to guess, he would reluctantly as it was roughly eighty degrees. It would be reluctant because he didn't even want to think about it. It seemed like a lost cause, because the questionable protrusion was already fixed firmly in his mind.

"Please don't point that at me…" Harry said weakly.

Fred examined him curiously, then slowly traced Harry's gaze down to his own tail. "Oho, looking at my front-tail, are we?" he asked with a knowing wink. He began swaying his hips back and forth, sending his 'front-tail' bouncing through the air. "You're not… by any chance… mistaking it for something **else** , are you?"

"Sweet zombie Jesus. That's why I told you you shouldn't let her ride in the front," George sighed. "Seriously, you're gonna end up in chains one of these days."

Fred grinned and began stroking his tail. "What? She likes it up here. The belly's warm and it doesn't smell like arse."

"Maybe if you wiped a little more it wouldn't be an issue."

"Hey, hey. Easy now. Don't expect me to like front-tails in the rear just because you do. Not that I'm judging, of course. I'm always behind you, brother, no matter what choices you make in life. I'm just saying maybe I don't want **you** behind **me** …"

" _ **May your soul be plunged into the eternal darkness, where it shall be torn asunder by the living incarnations of pain and despair**_ _,_ " George intoned.

The Weasley brother shifted his gaze past Harry to give George a surprised and disbelieving look. Harry quickly darted away from the redhead and spun to watch him suspiciously. It was definitely because he wanted to join Fred in his shocked staring, and not because of the cold chill that had just run down his back.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"That! The thing you just said, George! What the **hell** was that!?" Fred demanded.

George gave him a puzzled look. "I said, 'Screw you,' Fred. I'd think you hear that enough to know what it sounds like."

"That's not what you said!" Fred accused.

"That's definitely not what you said," Harry mumbled in agreement.

"Are you guys alright? You're acting weird."

" **We're** acting weird? George, you just… Are you feeling okay, George? You seem a little…"

Eyes wide, Harry whispered, "...possessed."  
"I was actually gonna go with 'ill,' but that works too."

Grimacing, George rubbed his lower stomach. "Now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit strange. I probably shouldn't have had those eggs Mom made. They seemed a bit off."

"You ate the eggs!? George, buddy, those things were definitely a little more than 'off!' They were completely-"

"-infected by ultimate evil," Harry finished.

"Hey, I like this kid!" Fred announced, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"...is that your front-tail poking me in the back?" Harry asked with a shiver.

"Don't worry, I don't like you that… Oh, never mind. It totally is," Fred laughed.

Harry leaped forward, whirling around again. Finding himself trapped between a possessed redhead and a erect 'front-tail,' Harry had a tough decision to make. Eyes locked on the fluffy tail, he made his choice. Not looking away, he slowly shuffled back towards George.

The Weasley let out a dainty little burp. The scent of sulfur tickled Harry's nose even though he was still a several feet away. He continued backing away from Fred.

"Don't get all weird. It's just one of the girls," Fred chuckled. He poked at a barely noticeable lump in his shirt. "Hey, lazy. Get your furry rear out here and say hi to… uh… Who are we saying hi to?"

"Harry. Harry Potter," Harry replied.

George leaned forward to examine his face carefully. "Potter? Really?"

Sighing, Harry lifted his bangs to reveal his scar.

"Hmm…" Fred hummed. Stooped down a bit to join his brother in his study. "That's a hell of a zit you got there, kid. You might want to get some cream for that. Maybe just burn it right off before something bursts out of it."

"Fred, what the hell would burst out of a zit?"

"I dunno. Like, a robot or something?"

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't happen…" Harry mumbled. "You guys aren't going to get weird?"

Fred paused, freezing in place with one fist cocked back to slug himself in the gut. "Get weird? Don't be absurd. How silly to imply we could possibly get weird."

Fred finished winding up, then slammed his fist into his stomach. At the last moment the small lump moved to the side. Instead of hitting it, he ended up slugging himself with considerable force. He released a faint, pained gasp as the air rushed from his lungs. Crippled by his own strike, he slowly collapsed to the floor.

"What my esteemed brother was trying to ask is why you'd think we'd get weird."

"Well… Hagrid said I was famous for killing some dork lord. Why the heck would someone call themselves that?"

"Oh, that," George said. Seeing his brother recovering enough to climb to his feet, he decided to help him by giving him a good boot to the side. "That's really only the adults, for the most part. You did somehow kill a dude when you were a year old, which is worth some serious street cred, but the dick eaters were on the ropes anyway. You just kind of sped it up. People that were around then might pop a semi, but most people our age won't really care."

"On the ropes?" Harry asked absently. Most of his attention was on Fred, who was rolling around on the floor and kicking his own ass as he tried to hit the fast moving lump.

"Right. So, you know about the Bond, right?"

Harry's attention shifted from Fred to George. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

"Really? Damn. It's like this: when you summon your Familiar, you give them part of your soul and take part of theirs. Exactly how much you trade varies from person to person, but it's always an even trade. A weird little side effect of that is that the wizard and Familiar kind of rub off on each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, say your pet snake there was your Familiar. It'd get smarter and understand things a snake probably shouldn't. In exchange, you might be a little more inclined to find a sunbeam and curl up, or decide you like swallowing live mice whole."

"Oh, that makes sense," Harry said, nodding. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to the Adder if he was subjected to the Bond. Like most snakes Harry spoke to a lot, he had grown smarter and had a better understanding of things over time. Sometimes it even seemed like he understood things better than the boy did, but that would probably be because he was something like thirty in snake years.

Or something like that, anyway. Harry wasn't quite clear on what a snake year was.

"And let's say your Familiar is something that really likes eating other things, like a lioness. It's possible that the Bond could do something fun, like make you take offense when someone treats your family like prey. If a member of your family was killed, it might even push you to hunt down and brutally murder every Death Eater you could find."

"Turns out that about 80% of 'em were total pussies that thought they could get away with it because they wore a scary mask. When people started looking for **them** , most of them booked it and the rest just stopped being alive," Fred added, pausing in his one man brawl. He was twisted into a shape that would make a contortionist cry, and for some reason had one arm rammed up his pant leg to the elbow. "The rest were real 'You're Screwed' class wizards, though. Our old man found that out the hard way."

Harry nodded, filing that away as something to ask about later.

"So… what're your Familiars? Are they front-tails?" Harry asked with a shudder.

"Nope. Mine's a back-tail," George announced. He turned around to proudly display the tail protruding from his back waistband.

All Harry could think of to say was, "Oh."

"Seriously though, the girls're foxes. Aren't you, **B** eautiful?"

George's back-tail vanished into his clothing. A small lump circled his torso, quickly climbing. A moment later a fox popped out from the neck of his shirt and sat down on his shoulder.

Harry would be surprised if she weighed more than half a kilogram and, counting the tail that made up about around half of her length, was barely forty centimeters long. The large ears and long tail made her look similar to the Fennec foxes he'd seen in the zoo, though she was a bit smaller and had the sort of poofy tail you normally associated with foxes. She was a pure white aside from onyx black markings on her paws, the tips of her ears and the tip of her tail.

Harry felt like he was being studied and evaluated in a way a fox shouldn't be capable of. Frowning, he turned to the side were Fred was still trying to haul his Familiar out of his clothing. It was a bit of a fool's errand. The fox in question was sitting on the floor a few feet away, watching him struggle with an amused look on her face.

Fred whirled around and flopped to the floor, somehow managing to tie another knot in his own clothing. He now looked like something from the bloopers reel on a hardcore bondage porn DVD. "Ha! Almost got you that time, you bugger! C'mere and fight like a… man... "Fred trailed off as his new position brought his vulpine spectator into view. "Oh, you suck so much."

The fox made a strange chirping sound that made Harry think of laughter. She whipped around - belting Fred in the face with her tail - and trotted over to George. It took her but a moment to scramble up his body and take a seat on his unoccupied shoulder.

"Girls, meet Harry Potter, the B-List hero," George said, gesturing grandly. Pointing to each fox in turn, he continued, "B-List hero, meet Ri and Ru."

Both foxes immediately turned and delivered a nasty bite to their respective ear.

"Ow! Sonuva- Just tell me I'm wrong like normal magical mini-foxes!" he snapped. "Fine. Harry, meet Ru and Ri."

The foxes delivered another pair of matching bites.

"The hell you crazy furballs!? One of those was obviously right!"

Harry's eyes shifted back and forth between the two magical mini-foxes. Much like Fred and George, the two were perfectly identical down to the last whisker. "They must be twins too, right? They're very pretty."

One of the foxes launched into the air and landed lightly on his right shoulder. The other dropped to the ground, leapt to slam into his waist and scrambled up his body. Eventually she took a seat on his previously unoccupied side. Both foxes examined him closely from just a few inches away.

"Huh. You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, Kid," George said. "They don't usually take to people like that. They don't take to people at all, really."

Harry looked back at the fox on his left, then slowly raised a hand. Her beautiful fur looked quite soft, but he wasn't exactly sure if you were supposed to pet magical mini-foxes. The question was answered when the small creature leaned forward to meet his hand. She immediately began making a low hum that sounded vaguely like a cat's purr.

Do foxes purr? Apparently this one did. Then again, it was a magical mini-fox.

"Hello, Ri," he greeted quietly. With a great deal more confidence he reached up and began scratching behind the other fox's ears. "Hello, Ru."

George looked at them expectantly for several seconds, the frowned in annoyance. "That's not fair. How come he doesn't get bitten, but we do?"

One of the foxes gave him a look that was clearly intended to say, "Because you suck."

The other fox gave him a look that could be roughly interpreted as, "Because your screams are like sweet candy for our souls."

"Wow. They're right next to your face and not chewing on it!" Fred exclaimed as he walked up to them. At some point he had managed to free himself and redress. Sort of. His arms were stuck down the legs of his pants, while his head was popping out a hole he'd torn in the crotch. His sweatshirt, obviously, was serving as a pair of makeshift pants. "That's a bummer, man. There's nothing like a good fox bite to get ya going."

Harry looked him up and down and muttered, "Does he always do stuff like this?"

"Only on days that end with Y. It's actually better that way. You should see him on Splurix. He's so serious it's scary…"

"...Splurix?"

"Splurix, man, Splurix!" George replied, looking at him like he was a moron. "The 367th day of the year. Fred is downright disturbing all day. Luckily it only happens once every four and a quarter years. I think there's one coming up next year, though, so be ready for that little bit of trauma."

Harry continued to watch Fred. The older boy had realized there was a problem with his clothing and was trying like hell to fix it. So far he'd managed to rotate everything so that his arms and legs were each in one pant leg and one sleeve.

"I have a really hard time imagining that."

"Yeah, he's a bit… off… sometimes. He's a freaking genius though, truth be told. He's so stupid that he comes up with weird stuff that no one else would ever think of. Me? I just try to make something we can use out of all the good parts," George admitted. There was just a hint of embarrassment and shame in his tone. "Well, that and try to keep him from killing himself on accident. That part can be pretty hard some days."

"It sounds like a good thing to be doing, though. I mean both parts, not just keeping him alive," Harry stated. "That's probably the really important one, but the other one's good too. Just because someone does the little bits that're hard doesn't mean the whole rest of it isn't important, especially if they can't to that stuff themselves."

George stared at him for a moment, then smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. You're okay, kid. I think you'll definitely make a good minion."

"I thought I was supposed to be your protégé."

"Eh, same thing. It'll work out either way. Only problem I see is that I'm apparently sharing you with Fred. I kinda feel like having half a minion is pretty pathetic. Might have out 'adopt' a few more…"

"Oh, oh! That sounds like a good idea," Fred agreed as he casually walked up to them. He was perfectly dressed again. There was no sign of the knots and tears that had been in his clothing a few moments ago. "We could have an army of firsties!"

"Fred, we'll be lucky to find another firstie that meets our standards, let alone two. Where do you think we'd come up with an army of 'em if we can't even come up with a couple more now?"

"Good point. That does seem unlikely."

"Yup. Huh. Looks like the riot's dying down," George observed, rubbing his chin. "That's a bummer."

"Yeah it is. It's too bad there's no one around to do something totally irresponsible like wind 'em up again,"

The twins paused, then looked at each other with wide eyes, as if just realizing something.

"Oh~, right!" they said together. As one they each held out a hand. Their Familiars quickly vacated Harry's shoulders and filled the waiting palms. Much like the Adder had, they curled into little balls of fluff. A moment later they were airborne, traveling towards the slowly calming mob.

"Three knuts says I bollock someone."

"You're on!"

The pair of furry projectiles reached the end of their flight and vanished into the crowd. An instant later the students there started getting visibly agitated again. Various yelps of pain and shrieks of protest could be heard, presumably the results of the fox twins unleashing hell upon any witch or wizard they could get their teeth on.

"Is… is that okay? I mean, wasn't that a really bad thing to do?" Harry asked. He had a very concerned expression as he stood on his toes, trying to see over the crowd.

"Oh yeah, it'll be fine. You saw how fast the girls are, right?" Fred reassured him.

George nodded and added, "And they're really good at dodging, too. Chances of someone being able to tag 'em are pretty slim."

"No, I meant-"

"Oh, the throwing thing," George broke in. "That's fine. They're pretty light, so they only hit hard if they want to. Besides, foxes always land on their feet."

"No, brother, that's not right at all. It's donkeys. Donkeys always land on their feet."

"I'm not sure about that…" George muttered, rubbing his chin. "You know what this means, right? We're going to need a donkey, a catapult and two kegs of beer."

"Good call. You'd have to be a sadistic madman to fire a sober donkey out of a catapult."

"No! That's not what I meant!" Harry insisted. "I mean, they're eating someone's face. Isn't that illegal, or at least not allowed?"

"Oh, Harry. Don't be silly. They're not eating-"

A scream of, "Somebody help! They're eating her face!" came from the other side of the platform.

"...so there's a **slight** possibility they're eating someone's face," Fred conceded. "And of course letting your Familiar eat people isn't not allowed, not even if they're only eating part of them. It'd be kind of insane if it was, right?"

"Of course, making people fire off streams of slug-laced projectile vomit isn't allowed either, but that happens once or twice a month," George added. "Then there's the Jelly-Legs and Leg-Locker curses. Someone eats floor and gets sent to the Hospital Wing with a broken nose weekly, at minimum."

Harry stared at them in horror.

"Eh, what'd you expect? I mean, you give a bunch of irresponsible kids sticks that can set people on fire and cram them in a castle with the bare minimum amount of supervision for nine months. It's a pretty predictable

outcome," George chuckled.

Fred nodded. "And that's not even counting the bears, dire wolves, poison snakes, elementals, psychotropic frogs, hypnotoads, turbo-weasels and bunnies."

"That… makes a lot of sense, I guess. Wow. How does anyone even survive to grow up?"

"Wizards don't break as easy as muggles to begin with, and we have magical healing," George explained. "Something that'd cripple them for good just puts us in the Hospital Wing for a couple of days."

"That's completely insane."

"I'm pretty sure throwing your pet snake at someone and causing a riot is pretty insane too," George pointed out.

Harry huffed and retorted stiffly, "I wasn't throwing the Adder at her. I was throwing him to her. It's not my fault she panicked for absolutely no reason and threw him at someone."

"You're right. Getting hit in the face with a snake is no reason to panic. Why, just the other day I-" George suddenly cut off, staring into the chaotic cluster of students. "Oh, crap. Did you see that?"

"What?"

"That weird wolf-thing from Slytherin. It was chasing the girls around. Look, there it goes again."

Fred squinted at the crowd. "Oh yeah. Damn it, why do they keep bugging that thing? It's gonna eat them one of these days."

"Yeah. We should probably intervene in a calm, responsible and adult fashion," George suggested. He looked down at his trunk laden trolley, grinned, then looked back at the mob. "Three knuts says I can trunk the ugly bastard upside the head."

"Ha. Only if I don't get it first."

Harry looked back and forth between them, then asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea? It looks kind of big and mean."

"Oh, it's obviously a bad idea," George said, tightening his grip on the handle of his trolley. "But even if they were asking for it, we've gotta help the girls. They're are Familiars."

"Plus that bastard stole my blueberry tart last year. Right off the table! He tasted my tart, so now he must taste the wooden flavor of justice!"

"Yeah, that too. You want us to pick up your snake if we see him?"

"Uh, sure," Harry replied. "Just grab him right behind the head if you pick him up. He doesn't usually bite but it's better to be careful, especially if he's surprised, irritated or bored."

With a curt nod, George turned back toward the crowd. Fred had already assumed a starting stance, hands tight on the trolley and legs tensed beneath him. The two froze like that for a long moment. Then, at some signal that Harry was completely unable to detect, they launched themselves forward. As their trolleys began to pick up speed, they screamed.

"Taste the trunk of justice!"

"Cough the tart up, asshole!"

It worth noting that upon reaching the mob, both brothers managed to miss the weird wolf-thing completely. In fact, Fred nearly managed to flatten the very Familiars they were trying to save. The near miss did save the girls regardless, as both foxes evaded the charging trunk by leaping atop it, but it was a close thing. The four vanished into the crowd in an instant, leaving one very confused weird wolf-thing standing awkwardly at the edge of the melee.

It worked out well for everyone involved.

Harry corrected his initial assessment as more loud cries came from the mob.

It worked out well for everyone involved, except for whoever the twins just brained with a trunk.

More screams.

Right. Two trunks. Well, three if you count the-

 _Goddamn. I had no idea something that big'd fit in an elephant. Who do you call when there's a trunk stuck in your back door? I doubt the movers'll want to touch that one._

"That's not very funny," Harry scolded, looking over his shoulder. The Adder was coiled up atop his trunk, watching the growing brawl with interest. "When did you get back?"

 _Just now. I decided playing snake-in-the-tunnel wasn't worth getting crushed and beat feet the second that started up. Beat scale. You know what I mean. Getting stepped on makes for a bad day. Probably not as bad as the 'movers' are gonna have dragging that trunk downstairs, but bad still pretty bad._

"I told you, that's not funny. Just think about Fred! He just lost his… Oh god."

 _Holy shit. He's going after it! Awesome! This is some quality fucking entertainment right here. Maybe we should get him some string so he doesn't get lost._

"Do you… do you think we should help?" Harry asked reluctantly. "It's kind of swinging its trunk around and hitting people. Uh, both trunks. Someone could get hurt."

 _By 'help' I assume you mean 'make things worse,' right? Because I'm totally down with that._

"That isn't what I meant and you know it."

 _C'mon. I bet you it'll just pop the trunk right out if we hit it hard enough. I'm pretty sure proctologists charge by the cubic meter, so we'd save someone a hefty chunk of change. We'd be doing them a favor._

"No they don't, no we wouldn't and no we're not."

 _Come on. I'll give you £10 if you do it._

"You're a snake. You don't have money, Adder."

 _So I'll shake down some kid later. I just need you to make me a little sign that says, "Hand over the cash or I'll bite your balls," for me to hold. Wait, I don't have hands. Sonuvabitch. This is why Mom warned me about spending too much time with humans._

"She said that?"

 _Of course not. She said if I bit too many, I was bound to catch something eventually. Nasty things, you never know where they've been. Except for that one. We know where that one's been and It sure as hell wouldn't make Mom proud if I bit him. We should probably do something now while we can still see a foot. I'm guessing there's not a whole lot in there to breath._

"I don't know if-"

 _Don't be a pussy, kid._

Harry froze. "What did you just say?"

 _Oh, sorry. Do you need me to say it louder? I said… crap, that's as loud as I can hiss. Come over here and bend down so I can lick your ear. I might even enjoy it, considering that my tongue would be in a giant pussy._

Glaring at the snake, Harry deliberately walked around behind his trolley and braced himself.

"Oh, it's on, snake."

 _Sweet. Try for a double somersault with a half twist this time. That would be awesome._

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Author's Note

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X


	3. The Mystery of History

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Chapter Three

"The Mystery of History"

AKA

"Legend of the Trunk-Punching Lunatic"

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

"Okay, so, what the hell are we supposed to do about this?" George asked.

The twins carefully examined Harry.

The younger boy was slumped over on the seat, as if dropped there by someone only half paying attention. He was sporting a nasty bruise that covered most of the left side of his forehead. A thin dribble of blood was running down his cheek, joining a thicker strand of drool at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were open, but it was pretty obvious that no one was home.

One of his eyes was staring at the wall behind Fred and George. The other eye was fixed firmly on a point forty-five centimeters to the left of Fred's eyes. No matter how the redhead moved, they eye followed to stay at exactly that distance. Both eyes were completely blank and devoid of anything resembling intelligence.

The Adder was coiled up in a tight loop atop his head. Ri (or Ru) was perched on the back of the seat behind Harry's left shoulder. Above his right shoulder sat Ru (or maybe Ri). All three animals were following Fred with their eyes. They were continuing their unwavering death-glare marathon into its twenty-third minute. There was no sign of them stopping anytime soon.

The twins stared at their friend, as if the answer to their problem could be found somewhere deep in those lifeless eyes.

"I'd like to point out that this totally isn't our fault. Just, y'know, if any potentially rabid parties were curious," Fred said casually. "I mean, I really don't see why we should be blamed for this."

"You're right. **We** aren't responsible for anything. **You** are. Seriously, you hit him with your trunk. I don't know how anyone could possibly manage to swing a whole trunk full of crap like a cricket bat, but you did it. I'm thinking I'll just chalk it up to the power of incredible stupidity, just so I don't have to think about it anymore," George hissed.

This seemed to egg the Adder on. He let loose a vicious hiss and lunged forward slightly without leaving Harry's wounded skull. It was something akin to a child taking a swing without any intention of hitting, just to see if the other party flinched.

Fred flinched, producing a faint shriek of horror as he recoiled away.

Satisfied, the Adder eased back on Harry's skull. George could swear it was giving his brother a smug grin. It seemed a bit silly even for him, because how did a snake even grin?

"Fred eats a ton of onions, in case you were interested. Me, I'm all about the garlic, but Fred loves those onions. He eats them so much I'd be surprised if the smell didn't soak right into this skin," George said helpfully. "Probably be pretty damn easy to tell us part if you're good at smelling things."

"George!"

The Adder looked at him for a moment, then tilted its head.

Did that snake just nod at him? It couldn't possibly be Harry's Familiar, since the boy had never been anywhere near the Summoning Chamber. That meant it was just…

"That's a really smart snake," George observed.

"Which is a good reason to not encourage it!" Fred whined. "Don't look at me like that, man! Uh… snake. It wasn't my fault at all! I was saving him!"

George actually snorted at that. "'Saving him?' Saving him from what, Fred? The vicious, man-eating Snapdragon?"

"Yeah, that! You saw it. It was totally eating him. He hit Dean, shot over his trunk, and flew right at it. It even opened its mouth to catch him and eat him!" Fred declared victoriously.

Burying his face in his hand, George growled, "No, I'm pretty sure it was just trying to catch him **without** the eating bit, Fred. You know, so he didn't get hurt?"

"You don't know that."

"Fred, it's a **Snapdragon**. They're made of freaking leaves and flower petals. It could chew on him all day and, if he was really unlucky, he might end up with a rash."

"Well… you might be right. I don't think he got hurt when he landed," Fred grudgingly admitted.

"No, no he didn't. He got hurt when you hit him with a Merlin-cursed trunk! What the hell did you even think you would accomplish, Fred? Have you ever, even once, heard of someone successfully bludgeoning a pile of leaves to death?" George grumbled, then sighed. "Seriously, what the heck are we supposed to do about this?"

"Oh, it's **we** now?"

"Yeah, Fred. We. You get blamed, I get blamed. I'm pretty sure it's just to make sure they get the right one, but it's a pain in the ass."

George continued to examine Harry with obvious concern. On the other hand, Fred was shifting between giving Harry a worried look and watching the Adder warily.

"Maybe we should own up to it and get him some help?" Fred suggested.

George immediately shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea."

"Oh, so you're so worried about getting in tr-"  
"He hasn't even started at Hogwarts and he's already taken a nasty hit. If someone decides he's bad off, they'll have to pull him off the Express. If they do that, there's no way they can get out of telling his family. What if they get worried and decide to pull him?"

Frowning, Fred nodded in agreement. It wasn't unusual for three or four muggleborn students a year to leave the school for exactly that reason. Even at Hogwarts, under the watchful 'supervision' of the staff and the care of the Hospital Wing, injuries serious enough to force parental involvement happened. The school had - and sometimes used - ways to make withdrawing an unwilling student quite hard, but not impossible.

Harry had never set foot in the castle, and probably didn't count as a student. That meant his family probably wouldn't have much trouble forcing him home. They didn't want him screwed out of his education for a little thing like being brutally bludgeoned, but there wasn't much they could do if it came to that.

It seemed ridiculous, but they knew quite well how stupid these rules could be.

Who really cared what order you washed the urinals in?

"So… what do we do? He's pretty busted up, but it's nothing a wizard can't handle. It won't even be a big deal as long as he isn't totally out of it. Do we just hide him here until he snaps out of it? "

"See, there's a problem with that. I'm not sure if this is due to brain damage, or if it's a reaction to perfectly normal magic-related trauma," Georges stated uncertainty. "I'm pretty sure you only snap out of one of those."

Humming, Fred stared at the floor as the gears in his head struggled to turn. He was really trying to put his brain into it, now that he wasn't preoccupied with thoughts of getting bitten by a venomous snake. The Adder seemed to have calmed down a bit after he volunteered to turn them in. He was still watching Fred a great deal harder than he was comfortable with, but no longer looked ready to bite his eyes out of his skull.

"Maybe one of the 'claws knows what to do? There must be a 'Detect Brain Damage' spell. Merlin knows there's enough use for it. They probably woulda used it on me enough to pay back everything it cost to make it last year alone," Fred giggled.

Their Familiars gave him a look that even someone who had never met them before would have interpreted as, "You shouldn't be proud of that, moron."

George made a disgusted face. "They like finding out something no one knows and making sure everyone knows it more than just about anything. Even worse, they might just wonder what Harrypits was doing slamming his trunk around in a riot."

"And someone might just wonder what started it, especially since he seems to like trunking people," Fred continued.

"Not as much as you do."

"Bite me," Fred muttered. Then, seeing the Adder tilt his head in interest, he threw up his hands and screamed, "Nonono! Not you!"

Looking very disappointed, the snake settled back down on his human's head.

George, looking almost as disappointed as the snake, suggested, "So, we can't do anything about brain damage. He'd probably be screwed if it was anyway. Not everyone handles it was well as you."

"You're just jealous because you haven't developed Blunt Trauma Resistance."

" _ **There shall be no resisting the agonizing pain as every fiber of your being is rent asunder, made whole, and then torn into pathetic fragments of ruined man once again.**_ "

"Right. So. We should probably just assume it's not brain damage and move on before I'm turned into a greasy smear," Fred decided.

George looked at him like he was a moron. "Yeah, that's what I just said. Well, aside from the greasy smear bit. What the hell's up with that, Fred? You feeling okay?"

"If it's not brain damage, it must be the trauma thing. Something like the thing King had, right?" Fred soldiered on. "The muggleitosisitis thing."

Frowning at the way his brother disregarded his comment, George disagreed, "That's not what it's called. That's just stupid."

"You know what I mean! It's the weird brain-snap-freak-out thing that some of the muggleborn do."

"I don't know if it's all that weird. I mean, imagine someone suddenly told you up was down and down is a banana parfait. You'd probably freak the hell out too," George reasoned. "It just kind of builds up, then something perfectly normal like a talking squid makes you snap."

"Even I don't think getting eaten by a Snapdragon and hit with a trunk is normal, George. Just think about it for a second and consider that."

George sighed. "Whatever. It's the straw that broke the camel's back, okay?"

"You can't break a camel's back with a straw, George. Even if the straw was really big, it'd still be too light and floppy."

"No, brother, the camel isn't getting hit with the straw. He's carrying it."

"Well that's just silly. Why would a camel be carrying a straw? It's not like they can drink through them..."

"I don't think this is helping Harry at all, you know..."

"Don't be so sure, brother! What if we found a really big straw, then hit Harry with it!"

"..."

"Well?"

"I'm really ashamed to admit that I actually considered that for a moment..."

"You did? Really?" Fred asked, sounding highly amused.

"Just shut it! Focus. What did we do when this happened to King?"

"We hit him."

"I swear to Merlin, if you say anything about a giant straw..."

"No. No giant straws. We just hit him."

George lifted his hand and gave it a worried look. "Oh. Right. Yeah, so that didn't work out too well last time. I'm pretty sure he didn't even notice when I belted him. I'm definitely sure I noticed when my hand broke."

"Yeah, that sucked," Fred agreed, nodding.

The hand in question gave Fred a solid slap to the back of his head. "Why the hell would you punch him while I was laying on the floor holding my bloody freaking hand?"

"I figured you didn't know how to punch someone right You're kind of a pussy, you know. How was I supposed to know King just didn't know how to be hit right?"

The comment earned Fred another, harder smack. "Okay then, tough guy. I'm thinking you better take the first swing, then."

Fred joined his brother in giving his hand a worried look. George wasn't exactly sure why Fred chose his hand instead of looking at his own, but that was just how he was. "Ah, exactly how sure are we that Harrykin's face isn't made of bone shattering pain?"

"Pretty sure. I wouldn't use your 'alone time' hand, just in case."

The twins turned towards Harry, only to discover that their Familiars and the Adder were staring at them. The foxes looked like they were considerably less than amused. The Adder was even worse, his eyes burning with a gleam that said, "Just try it, bitch."

"Oh~, that's why you were freaking out earlier," George said quietly as he registered the look in the promise of violence in the snake's eyes. He let out a nervous giggle. "Guys, you know we're doing this for his own good, right? He just needs a little shock to knock the crazy train back on the rails."

They looked at him for a long moment. Suddenly - sudden enough that both twins flinched - Ri and Ru hopped down onto Harry's shoulders. They immediately stood on their hind legs and began pummeling him with their claws. About ten seconds into the assault the Adder began hissing, his body twitching as he was overcome by serpentine laughter. The blows inflicted by the foxes were surprisingly hard, considering they were being delivered by quadrupeds weighing barely a kilogram.

That wasn't saying much.

Seeing the furball assault, Fred snickered. "Come on, you guys are tiny. This is why we wanted to do it."

Six eyes fixed on him and gave him a nasty glare.

"Or not."

Ri and Ru stood on their hind legs again, bracing themselves against Harry's head. They braced themselves, then rocketed away to hit opposite sides of the compartment. Throwing themselves away from the walls, they hurled in and slammed into the sides of his skull at exactly the same time.

Harry giggled.

The adder started convulsing so hard he fell off Harry's head.

"Okay, seriously…"

The foxes dropped down into the seat next to the Adder. The three put their heads together, like a football team planning their next play. Apparently reaching a consensus, the huddle broke. To the twins' shock, one of the foxes clamped down on the Adder's skull and hauled him up onto the back of the seat. Throwing her head back, she wound up and threw her entire body into the swing.

The Adder slapped across Harry's face hard enough to produce an audible crack.

"Yep. It's official. We just hit a whole new level of weird," George declared. He studied the bruise forming across Harry's cheek with a low whistle. He was pretty sure he could see impressions left by the individual scales. "I do kinda feel like I should point out that it didn't work."

"I don't know, it might have worked a little. He looked kind of shocked," Fred protested. "Maybe they just didn't hit him hard enough. Here, let me give it a-"

There was a solid thunk. The Adder hung there, plastered across Fred's face for a full second. Then he slowly peeled off and fell. Fred stared down at him in disbelief, then shifted his gaze up to Ru. She was still standing there, poised on the seat with her mouth hanging open.

"Did- did you just throw a snake at me?"

 _That's right, bitch. Suck scale,_ the Adder hissed as he wound up Harry's leg. _Taste the wrath of superior lifeforms._

"Never mind. **That** was a new level of weird. Can you do it again, but harder?" George asked.

Fred held up a hand in protested. "No, we should focus on the problem at hand. We should put everything into helping Harry. That's the important thing here."

Reluctantly, George nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. So was it a shock? Getting hit in the face with a snake, that is."

"Not as much as I would have thought. Maybe a 4.3 out of 10 on the shock scale," Fred said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe the girls've just hurt us so often it's kinda lost effect."

George's eyes widened as something occurred to him. "Hey, that makes sense. Maybe trying to knock the sense ougtta someone that's already been trunked senseless just doesn't work."

"So we need to jack him up- uh, we need to shock him some other way, maybe?" Fred suggested.

Suddenly interested, the snake and his fox companions perked up. The Beast Alliance conferred again. Whatever it was they were discussing was obviously quite horrible. The Adder actually recoiled in disgust, then gave Ri and Ru horrified looks. There was another brief discussion, which resulted in the snake slithering aside.

"So, should it worry us that they get along that well?"

"I'm pretty sure it should."

Ri and Ru hopped down Harry's shoulders, one on each. The foxes turned to give the Adder one last look. Slowly and reluctantly, he nodded. Turning back to Harry, both foxes rammed their noses into their respective ear.

He let out a squeal like a wounded pig, shooting out of his seat. Both foxes were unceremoniously dumped to the floor. Harry hopped around while wildly rubbing at his ears for several seconds. Suddenly he stopped bouncing around, threw his head back and shouted, "What the **vasco**!?" at the ceiling.

"So. He's back to normal...ish... I think..." George announced, not really seeming too sure about it.

Fred shook his head. "It's kinda scary this is 'normal' for him. People look at you weird just because you talk about the voices. What the hell are they going to make of that?"

"For Merlin's sake, Fred. I've told you not to go around talking about that. That was the smiley mushrooms talking. There were no voices."

"Fine, fine. I still think you're just jealous they didn't explain the twenty-seven uses of squid to you," Fred said sadly, shaking his head. "But seriously, this kid's messed up."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yeah, I **am** one to talk! Ha!"

Shaking his head, Harry looked around blearily. He had no idea where he was. It looked like some sort of room. With seats. It was definitely a room with seats. At least now he knew he wasn't in a room with no seats. He felt determining this was definitely an accomplishment. It wouldn't do to be in a room with no seats and think you were a room with seats. That would be very embarrassing.

With great difficulty he managed to identify a pair of redheads. He wasn't sure where Fred was or why there was two Georges arguing. He was a little worried, since Fred clearly couldn't look after himself. Still, if there was two Georges around they'd surely be able to handle it. It was a bit confusing, though, since he wasn't sure if he should be looking for one fox, two foxes, or two of one fox. Maybe he should look for one fox and one two of foxes, just to be sure. That was a good idea, he decided. He'd just find four foxes and that would be that.

It only took him half a minute to find his first fox. It was hard, but he eventually found her standing on the back of a seat, at eye level directly in front of him. That meant his fox hunt was off to a pretty good start. One fox was better than no foxes, even if it wasn't as good as seven. He giggled slightly as she hopped onto his shoulder, raising one hand and patting the empty air to the right of her head. Now he just needed… one… eight… four… twelve. He needed twelve more foxes, and then he'd be good.

Apparently fortune was smiling on him, because he found a third fox right by the first. Wait… no… that was a… thing… wiggly thing with no legs. It was a caterpillar. While interesting, he wasn't sure he needed a caterpillar. They were wiggly and had no legs, so they made very poor foxes. But wait… there was something in front of the caterpillar. It was a kitten, which he also had no use for. He wasn't sure who put a kitten there, but it would have been nice if they put a fox there instead. A fox like that one, sitting in front of the caterpillar. It seems someone corrected the kitten problem while he was busy looking at the kitten, all without him noticing.

The fifth fox jumped onto his occupied shoulder and scrambled around his neck to the other. He could also feel the caterpillar squirmy-no-legging it up his leg. He was glad he had a leg, because the caterpillar wouldn't be able to squirmy-no-leg it up if he didn't. It was a really weirdly large caterpillar, but it was probably best not to judge. The poor giant caterpillar'd probably had a hard life, being a horrific freak of nature like it was.

So he had three foxes and an incredibly large mutant caterpillar that probably shot custard out its eyes. All mutant caterpillars had custard-eyes. He'd successfully filled his fox quota, and even had a horrible mutant caterpillar and a kitten to boot. It was an disappearing kitten - probably a ghost - but it still counted. That was good, because apparently it was good at finding him foxes.

 _Score._ Harry though. _I should get a job as a forensic scientist. I could use my powers for good, and spend all day forensicing. I already have the glasses. No one would ever know I'm me._

The girls took note of Harry's unfocused, confused look. They exchanged concerned glances, then gave foxy shrugs. Two noses were pulled back in preparation. The Adder closed his eyes and looked away.

"Gyark! Why!?" Harry screamed, effectively ending the twins' argument. "What the where now?" He looked around in a panic.

There was a window to the side, scenery barreling along at a healthy clip. Metal racks up by the ceiling housed a trio of trunks. One of them was his. A long bench ran along the wall on each side of him.

For some reason that realization filled him with pride.

There was a Familiar weight around his neck and an unfamiliar weight on each shoulder (or, possibly more accurately, a Familiar weight, hehe). This told him he was most likely being used as an animal taxi. That wasn't anything new, even if he was carrying three times as many passengers as normal.

Looking around cagily, he gave the twins a suspicious look. "It was the plants, wasn't it? It was the plants. I really, really hope you're not working with them guys. I think I'd be sad if you weren't around anymore."

"He's talking about not hanging out with us, right?" Fred whispered, edging away from the first-year.

"I'm pretty sure he is,' George replied, equally quietly.

"I don't know what they offered you, but it isn't' worth it. They'll turn on you guys. They'll get you and I'll never see you again," Harry continued.

Both twins relaxed visibly and let out a relieved sigh of, "Oh…"

Clearing his throat, George carefully approached the younger wizard and patted him on the head. "No, Harry. We're not… uh… working with the plants. Why would you think that? For that matter, why would you think they were involved in… whatever?"

"You're kidding, right? The big wolf made of flowers looked pretty, but it tried to eat me! It bit me and trapped me in it and tried to crush my skull! It could have killed me!" Harry said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not sure that's what happened, kid. Snapdragons are harmless," George said soothingly.

Harry stared at him with wide eyes. "Oh no… They fooled you too, didn't they?"

"Uh… what?"

"They tricked you into thinking they can't hurt you. The plants trick everyone like that," Harry whispered. "I know you guys were right there. I know you saw what happened. How can you think they're harmless when it tried to kill me?"

Fred rubbed the back of his head and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Harry? Buddy? All I saw was me hitting you. I hit you with my trunk. The Snapdragon was trying to help, but I brained you both."

The admission was met with a pitying look. "Oh, Fred. I'm so sorry. It's not your fault."

Fred sighed in relief.

"It's not your fault you can't see the truth. Your brain just isn't good enough to understand. It's okay. I'll keep you safe," Harry declared. "There's magic that can burn plants, right? Like, all the plants? I think I need to learn how to do it as soon as I can."

"...what are the odds we can prevent that?"

"Not good. Not good at all."

As if suddenly noticing where he was, Harry looked around the cabin. "Oh. Is this the Express? Are we on our way to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah."

"You guys… You guys fought it all the way to the train? It dragged me here, but you still came to help?" Harry asked in an amazed tone.

The twins glanced at Harry's passengers, as if looking for a suggestion. Obviously that didn't go well, considering they couldn't understand the animals even if they did. Judging by the helpless looks they got, it wouldn't have done them any good regardless.

"So, Harry, looking forward to your first day at Hogwarts?" George asked suddenly.

Harry gave him a puzzled look. "I guess. Why are you suddenly- Wait. Are **they** there?"

"I'm going to go out on a li-" George smacked his brother in the stomach, cutting the word off before it left his lips. "-guess you're talking about the… uh… Them?"

"Hogwarts is an old castle, Harry. It's all stone and dirt and stuff," George quickly said. "There's not a lot for Them to grow on. So, what subject are you looking forward to most?"

Harry stared at him for a long moment. Suddenly his expression changed, becoming quite concerned. "George, are you okay? You keep kind of saying things that have nothing to do with anything. Did you hit your head or something?"

Fred snickered. The punch he received in response was anything but soft.

"I'm good. I think my blood sugar might be low or something," the redhead replied. Suddenly his expression brightened as he slapped his fist into his palm. "You know what'd fix that? The refreshments cart has all kinds of good candy and stuff. Have you ever had magical candy?"

Immediately catching on, Fred nodded enthusiastically. "You'll love magic candy, Harry. It does all kinds of stuff. The girls really like Chocolate Frogs. They hop around and try to get away while you rip their limbs off."

Harry looked at him uncertainty, then glanced at the fox on his shoulder. She nodded in confirmation. The other fox quickly confirmed the confirmation.

"Did you seriously just look at the girls to see if I was lying?" Fred asked.

"Of course not. That would be smart," Harry replied. He looked at Fred's face for a moment. Belatedly, he realized what he'd said. "That would be silly. Sorry, I bit my lip and the word came out funny."

"Why the heck would you think that I'd lie about something dumb like that? First of all, it'd be a pretty easy thing to find out I'm lying about."

Harry considered that for a second. "Well… I guess I don't think you'd lie. I just think you might get confused easy. I mean, you're gullible enough to think the pl-"

"Look Harry, a mountain!" George announced, pointing out the window. "You've gotta see this, it's so cool!"

Harry scowled. "I've seen mountains on the telly. They don't look that interesting. What the heck is up with you guys?"

"But Harry, you've gotta see this!" George soldiered on. "It has-"

Fred's face turned white as he let out a strangled squeak. George's mouth was hanging open, left that way after his sentence came to an unceremonious stop. Ri's fur stood on end and Ru nearly fell off Harry. The Adder stiffened around his neck as his eyes shot open wider than should be possible.

There was a pack of wild Snapdragons out there. They weren't even half a kilometer away, in plain view. The creatures were running alongside the train, their powerful limbs propelling their light bodies at high speed. They were falling behind, but would be visible for quite a while if they didn't change speed.

"Forget it, Harry. We were just trying to distract you."

The younger boy's brow furrowed. Did they really just admit to trying to distract him? Why would they do that? Unless... they actually didn't want him to look at the mountain. Clearly they were trying to distract him by distracting him and admiring to distracting him. The line of thinking was making his head hurt, but it still made sense. Maybe.

He began to turn.

Ri's small body slammed into his face, completely blinding him. At the same time, Ru launched off his shoulder and bounded off the far wall. She hit him in the chest like a small, furry sledgehammer, knocking him into a seat. George whipped out his wand and whispered a short incantation. A mass of black goo exploded from the end, covering almost the entire window. The shades were quickly whipped shut, courtesy of George. He made sure to press the curtains into the goo.

Harry lifted Ri off his face. He held her at arm's length, giving her a confused look. "What was that for?" he asked. The fox gave him an innocent look. "I didn't do anything to you! I was just trying to look out the..."

Harry stared at the mass of goo and fabric. He gave one of the curtains an experimental tug. It pulled out a little, but snapped right back into place the moment he let go. The black stuff was both very sticky and elastic.

Ri slipped out of his hand and hopped onto the back of the seat. She stared at the window in an overly curious manner, like she had never seen something like that before. Ru was giving Harry a blank look from the floor. He translated the look as, "Window? What window?"

It was a fairly accurate interpretation.

Harry looked down at the Adder. He had fallen to the floor under the window. The snake was wearing an expression much like the fox's.

 _Holy shit, did you see the size of that bird?_

"Oh, look. The window broke, Harry."

"Don't you just hate that? These magic windows can be so unreliable. You never know when one might break all of a sudden," George stated.

"That seems like a really weird way for a window to break, guys..."

Fred nodded in agreement. "It was obviously a magic window, since this is a magic train. Magic holds nearly limitless possibilities. That means there's a nearly limitless number of ways it could break."

"Damn those unreliable magic windows," George sighed. "Always breaking in the strangest way. Why, just the other day the window in our bedroom-"

"-a magic window in a magic bedroom-"

"-broke in the strangest way. I'm not going to turn your stomach with the details, but it involved a rather large number of three-winged moths."

Harry, who was about to break in, froze with his mouth half open. He looked George up and down, clearly trying to decide if he was the butt of a joke. Finally he asked, "Three-winged moths? Seriously?"

"Yes. I… I don't know if I'll ever recover," Fred declared gravely. "No matter how hard I scrub, I can still feel it!"

George nodded and gave the boy his best sincere look. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"I'm starting to feel like there's gonna be a lot of things I don't want to know."

"That's the spirit!" Fred cheered, apparently shrugging of his supposed moth-trauma in an instant. He gave Harry an enthusiastic slap on the back. "You're bound to go far with an attitude like that. Or, at the very least, you have a better chance of making it to adulthood."

"I think I need to take a walk or something. I feel like I'm getting lightheaded," Harry muttered. He squeezed past Fred and slid open the door.

"Yeah. You're probably low on blood sugar. You might want to look for the refreshment cart," George suggested.

"That's definitely what it is," Harry said sarcastically. "I'm going to leave the Adder here. You do anything weird and he gets to bite you."

 _Oh yeah, give me an excuse. You guys smell like you take a bath now and then and I know just where to bite._

Pausing, Harry said, "You guys are cool, so I'll warn you. He's fast and he likes to go for the crotch."

 _You ruined the surprise. You suck._

Harry's last sight as he turned away from the door was a pair of redheads holding both hands over their bollocks.

This, of course, left Harry alone in the corridor with no idea what he intended to do. Looking up and down it, he wondered which way the refreshment cart might be. He was actually pretty hungry, so a sandwich or copious amounts of magical sugar sounded good. Hagrid did give him a small handful of coins for exactly that reason. It seemed silly to let his consideration go to waste.

The smart thing to do would, of course, be to go in the direction that had the most corridor. Unfortunately, he didn't actually know where on the train he was. The smart option ruled out, that left him with only one reasonable course of action.

"Eenie, meenie, miney moe," Harry chanted, closing his eyes and spinning. Coming to a stop, he took a step forward and continued, "In the corridor, which way do I- Crap!"

Unsurprisingly, he had just walked face-first into a wall.

"Ack. Should've seen that coming. Screw it, we're turning left."

Harry started hoofing it down the train, towards the back cars. Taking the chance to look around as he went, he was interested to note the whole thing looked like something out of the first half of the 20th century. Apparently you didn't need modern technology when you had magic.

He had made it about two cars down before someone behind him yelled, "Hey, you!"

Harry flinched and whirled around with the words, "I didn't do it!" on his lips. He didn't quite manage to get it out before he recognized the speaker and paused. "Hey, you're… Draco?"

"And you're Harry Potter, yes?" the blonde asked.

Harry nodded mutely. He was a little too caught up in studying the other boy to form a proper response. Draco looked like he had been put through a wood chipper face-first. His hair was messed up and dirtied with small amounts of what could only be blood. It was easy to see where it came from. His face was cut and scraped, with an impressive bruise forming on his cheek.

"What the heck happened to you?" Harry blurted.

Draco scowled and touched his cheek. "Some jerk hit a 'puff with a trunk and pinned it on me. The guy wasn't real upset, but whoever got him hit a Ravenclaw, too. I think he must be a little sweet on her, because he was **pissed**. His buddies weren't happy either, but then everyone started fighting before they did anything. I was right in the middle, though, so..."

"Oh."

Draco tapped his own forehead. "What the heck happened to you?"

Rubbing his forehead self-consciously, he replied, "Someone hit me with a trunk…"

Eyes widening, Draco said, "You're kidding, right?"

"Uh-uh."

"Wow. It's going around. I wonder if it was the same guy."

"Could be, I guess. I don't think there's a lot of people that do something like that."

"Seriously, who goes around hitting people with trunks?"

Harry shrugged. "Someone completely irresponsible, mildly insane or both."

"Yeah. Oh, so…" Draco frowned and stuck a hand into his robes. After a moment he withdrew a wooden box that had about the same dimensions as a particularly large tome. "Father was kind of embarrassed he didn't take the time to introduce himself formally. He can get a little weird when he sees something 'completely fabulous' and just has to have it. He wanted me to give you this. I- I don't know what's in it, but I just want to apologize in advance."

Harry took the heavy box and hefted it curiously. It was made of a fine, dark wood that Harry had never seen the like of. The hinges and front clasp were made of a metal almost as dark as the wood. Sparse amounts of fine filigree decorated the sides and top. Overall, it was probably the nicest (and most expensive) thing he'd ever been given.

"I don't know. It's kind of nice," Harry muttered.

He popped the latch and flipped the lid back. There was a brief pause, during which he subjected the box to a confused stare, then he flipped the second lid to the left. After that, there was a third lid that opened the other way. He was left with a box that had opened like a flower. The underside of each lid contained a storage space that was bigger than it should be in a way that hurt his brain.

The lids were full with a dizzying array of vials, bottles and brushes.

Sighing, Draco said, "Yeah, I thought it was something like that…"

"Okay, I give up. What am I looking at?"

Draco drew in a deep breath.

"Those brushes there will color your lips until you use these cloths. These vials here will change the color of your eyes and these do your hair. They stay that way until you use the clear ones. You use these poofy things and those pencils on your face. You use that same cloth to get it off. These are all scents in here. They all hold more than it looks and it's all good quality, so none of it will run out anytime soon. I don't know if there's anything else you don't know how to use, Father probably left instructions anyway."

Harry stared at Draco with an uneasy look on his face. "Uh…"

"Oh, come **on**! Don't look at me like that! You saw Father. Do you really think I had a choice? I've listened to him for hours, Potter! Hours!" Draco protested in exasperation. "And now **that's** yours, so you don't have any right to judge."

"Yeah, I think I'll just-"

"Don't throw it out. You can't throw it out," Draco said quickly. "As dumb as it is, that's a gift from my father to you. That makes it a gift from House Malfoy to House Potter. Ditching it wouldn't just be like refusing his apology. It'd be throwing it back in his face. You've got to keep it for at least a year or two and - I'm really sorry - it wouldn't be a bad idea if he saw you'd used it at least once."

There existed no words in the human language that could accurately describe the look on Harry's face. Very slowly, his every movement trembling with horror, he folded the box closed.

"Yeah, well, that's the way it is. You think you've got it bad? You should see the pictures from my eighth birthday. You can't though, because I hunted down and burned every single one. Then set the ashes on fire, then tossed them in the river."

Harry gravely placed his free hand on Draco's shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am," Draco muttered. "Look, unfortunately I have to get back to Crabbe, Goyle and-" Draco paused and shivered. "-Pansy. Where were you going? You could come sit with us, if you want. The guys aren't real smart, but they're decent company. Pansy-" Shudder. "-is… Pansy."

Harry slowly began backing down the corridor. "I'll pass. I'd like to meet the guys and… uh…"

"Pansy. No you don't, by the way. If her father wasn't one of Father's business associates…"

"Yeah, so I'm going this way," Harry said apologetically, still retreating. "I've got to do… something?"

Draco nodded. "Understandable. You know there's not much back there, right? There's just another carriage, then it's the cargo cars."

"This carries cargo?"

"Not really. That's where they keep all the big Familiars. The expansion charms on the cabins are pretty good as long as you don't have much more than eight people, Father says. But not even those can deal with an elephant."

Harry shuddered at the last word.

"I'm not even going to ask."

"So, are we not allowed back there or something?"

Draco shook his head. "No, of course we're allowed. Some of the wizards like to ride back there, since it's with their partners. There just isn't much back there aside from a few wizards and a bunch of big things. They'll probably just ignore you, since you're not their wizard. There's not much point in hanging out with someone else's Familiar."

A pair of furry faces popped into Harry's mind. "I guess? I don't know. I've only met a couple, but I like them. They seem to like me, too. I hope."

"Huh. You're a weird guy, then," Draco said with a shrug. "Anyway, I'm heading back before it- she. I'm heading back before she comes looking for me. Later."

The back three cars of the Express where exactly what Draco had said they would be. Unlike the front cars, they were mostly open. The front of the three had dividers forming large stalls, while the back two were a single, large area. They had clearly been made with beasts in mind judging by the odd collection of straw piles, large animal beds and assorted mounds of things like soil.

The collection of beasts was also quite impressive. Well over half of them were fairly standard animals like elephants and large cats. The others were a lot stranger. Among them he saw a huge crab, the weird wolf-thing (the body of a massive wolf, with birdlike talons and face of a bat), and a massive eyeball wandering around on a squid's tentacles.

Harry couldn't help but notice the way the elephant was walking around uncomfortably, as if unwilling to sit down.

He really hoped the Adder was wrong about butt doctors charging by size.

"Hey."

The sudden sound almost made Harry jump out of his skin. The rear cars had been pretty quiet thus far. They were sparsely populated. Most of the wizards that were there were either sitting in small groups or just hanging around with their Familiar. Not a single human had shown the slightest bit of interest in him since he entered the cargo area. The untended Familiars were a bit better, but they generally just gave him a once-over and went back to whatever they were doing.

"Hi…?" Harry replied hesitantly.

The older boy was looking at him curiously. He was obviously a bit confused by Harry's presence. "You're a first-year, right? What the heck are you doing back here?"

"Sorry. I didn't know I wasn't allowed. I'll just-"

"What? Oh, no. It's not that," the boy said quickly. "It's just weird to see a first-year back here. The only ones that end up here are people with big Familiar. As you can see, even most of them sit up front." The tone of his voice made it pretty clear what he thought about that. "I'm surprised you're not with your friends or something."

Harry shrugged, relaxing now that it was obvious the other boy wasn't about to run him off. "I just needed to take a walk. I was kinda curious, so…"

"Ah, wondering what kind of Familiar you might get?" his companion asked, nodding. "Yeah, you can't just poke your head in someone's compartment and ask to get a look at their partner. Trust me, you get a lot of weird looks."

Harry stared at the other boy. "You actually did that?" he asked in disbelief. He might not know much about how wizards did things, but it seemed pretty obvious that would look weird in any situation.

"Yeah, they looked at me just like that, actually," he said, laughing. "I'm Cedric Diggory, by the way. This is my Familiar, Tank. Get up and say hi, lazy."

Behind Cedric, what Harry had assumed was a large pile of hay shifted and move. Whatever it was in there shifted and shuddered, throwing most of the debris off. This revealed the creature beneath, which was…

A ball.

A huge ball, big enough that it was taller than Cedric by half a meter or more. It was covered in what appeared to be huge, diamond-shaped scales that could easily be mistaken for metal plates. Harry didn't even need to be told that whatever it was could be dangerous. Even if the size wasn't a clue, the way the light gleamed across the edges of its scales made it pretty clear what would happen if you got careless around it.

The ball suddenly unrolled, becoming something like an armor-covered anteater. It shook off the last of the hay and regarded Harry curiously. It looked pretty friendly, but Harry couldn't help but notice the deep cuts its tail left in the floor.

"Tank's a dire pangolin. I didn't even know there was such a thing. Heck, I didn't even know what a normal pangolin was!" Cedric declared, laughing. "He's pretty harmless, as long as you don't rub him the wrong way. I mean that literally, by the way. Trying to go against the scales is a good way to lose a hand."

"Hi Tank," Harry said hesitantly. The creature looked like it could swallow him in about two bites. Its scales and long claws would probably shred an impolite wizard even quicker. If Tank was every in a bad mood, somewhere else would be a very good place to be. "Oh, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Cedric stared at him, brow furrowed in concentration. "I know I've heard that name…" he muttered. After a brief delay he slapped his hands together. "You're the guy that took out a dark wizard, right?"

"I guess so. That's what people tell me, at least. It seems pretty silly, if you ask me. How does someone do that when they're only a year old?"

Shrugging, Cedric replied, "Hey, weirder things happen. With magic, there's-"

"-nearly limitless possibilities?"

There was another good-natured laugh. "Yeah, that's the one."

"It still seems dumb."

"Hey, look at it this way: at least it wasn't anyone crazy dangerous you took out. People would be going nuts over you if you took out a full-on Dark Lord."

"I don't even know what that means. The guy I… uh… 'took out' was… uh… someone told me a bunch of guys almost fed him to their Familiars?"

There wasn't really a good way to ask how badass the dude you'd inadvertently killed as an infant had been.

"Oh, come on. They weren't going to actually…" Cedric paused, then shrugged. "Actually, they might have. He did kill a lot of people. From what I hear, that included their families. I'm sure they were pretty pissed. It's pretty plausible that they'd feed the bastard to their Familiars. It's only natural to get mad when someone messes with your family, right?"

"I probably wouldn't," Harry muttered.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Why? You don't get on with them?"

Realizing what he'd said, Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It's…"

A look of sympathy crossed Cedric's face.

As unfortunate as it was, it wasn't really an uncommon situation with muggleborn wizards. They frequently had difficulty dealing with the muggles they were raised aside, and sometimes that extended to family. He wasn't quite clear on the details. It had something to do with the fact that, on some level, people could tell you were different. They weren't really aware of it, but somehow they identified the black goat in a herd of white sheep.

"Well, I couldn't've fed him to Tank, even if I wanted to," Cedric announced a little too loudly. It was pretty obvious the subject was making Harry uncomfortable. "He doesn't have any teeth, so I'm pretty sure it wouldn't work."

As if on cue, the dire pangolin opened his mouth. There was, in fact, no teeth in there.

"Oh," Harry said, leaning forward to examine the toothless gums intently. "How does he eat, then?"

"Pangolins are related to anteaters. He just kind of slurps stuff up with his tongue."

Lightning fast, Tank's tongue shot out of his mouth.

Harry reacted nearly as fast, jerking back to what he assumed was a safe distance. He immediately discovered that his definition of 'safe distance' was way off. The tongue just kept coming and coming, shooting out until it was twice the length of Tank's head. Harry was a lot closer than that, so a good six inches of pangolin tongue smacked him solidly upside the head.

"Gah!" He said. It wasn't the most eloquent response, but it seemed appropriate. He wasn't sure what else he should say while wiping pangolin slime out of his eyes.

Smiling, Cedric gave his Familiar a pat on the head. Then, in a voice that clearly didn't match his attitude, he scolded, "Tank! What've I told you about doing that!?" and gave the Familiar a big thumbs up.

"I think he could probably manage eating a bad guy just fine. Or sliming him to death, at least," Harry grumbled. He finished cleaning off his glasses and looked up. Cedric was facing Tank, giving him a disapproving frown. "You don't have to be mad at him. It's not like he hurt me."

Cedric gave his Familiar another glare and reluctantly conceded. "Okay… If you say so," he said with a put-upon sigh. It was probably a bit more dramatic than he intended it to be, but it was the best he could manage while trying not to laugh.

Harry frowned. It seemed like Cedric was pretty mad at Tank. It was just a silly joke, but he could see why the other boy might be upset. The dire pangolin seemed pretty cool, though, so he should probably change the subject. "So, what did you mean when you said he wasn't a full-on Dark Lord?"

"Well, a Dark Lord is a lot worse," Cedric replied. It was a welcome change of subject, since it was getting **really** hard not to laugh. "Like I said, Tom Riddle killed a bunch of people and hurt even more, but he wasn't nearly as bad as Grindelwald."

Seeing Harry's interested look, he struggled and decided to carry on.

"Grindelwald went nuts back in the 1940's. He started working with… wait, do you know what the Third Reich was?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. A lot of wizards are clueless. Heck, I probably would be too, but Mom's a muggleborn." Cedric took another breath and continued. "So the guy went off his rocker and started working with the Nazis. You ever hear how the fuhrer was obsessed with the occult? Well, he got into it a bit more than people thought, and most of it was Grindelwald. There was only a few people who knew about him, I guess, but he gave the Nazi Regime a lot more push then they should have had."

"Why?"

"All the test subjects he wanted. That's what Mom says, anyway. He was into some really dark ritual magic. That sort of thing takes a lot of 'research materials' that you can't just go out and buy, if you get the drift," Cedric explained with a disgusted scowl. "A lot of the worst atrocities were because of his research projects. That much, at least, is solid fact."

"I don't understand. Why would someone do such awful things?"

Cedric shrugged. "History of Magic doesn't cover that much until next year. Dad says he started out just trying to recreate some of our lost magic disciplines. But he started dabbling in a bit of dark magic, and that's a slippery slope."

"What kind of stuff was he trying to figure out?" Harry asked eagerly. Realizing how that sounded, he quickly followed it up with, "You know, before he went nuts."

"Don't really know. A lot of places out there have at least one or two kinds of magic that aren't wand magic or potion brewing. We used to too, a long time ago. Guess that's what he was after." Cedric shook his head with a thoroughly befuddled look on his face. "Wand magic is the easiest and fastest to learn, so I don't know why you'd bother. Even in the places that use the other stuff are like 95% wand magic."

"Oh…"

"Sorry," Cedric said helplessly. "Hey, is it okay for you to still be back here?"

Harry gave him a puzzled look. "You just said it was…"

"Not that. I'm saying you've been back here for something like a half hour. Your friends are waiting for you, right? They're probably a little worried if they thought you were just going to the loo. Well, they're worried or they think you're really, really bound up."

"Oh. Crap," Harry muttered, smacking his forehead. "Oops. I didn't even find the refreshment cart."

"Just sit and wait. She goes up and down the train a few times."

Nodding, Harry turned to leave. He only made it a few steps before pausing and turning to face Cedric again. "Hey, uh… what happened to your face?"

Cedric raised his hand to touch his cheek, wincing as his fingers brushed a nasty scrape. "Some jackass hit me with a trunk. Can you believe that? I mean, who goes around hitting people with trunks?"

Harry nodded solemnly. Pointing at his bruised head, he said, "Someone hit me with a trunk! Draco got busted up by one too."

"Wow. They got Cho pretty bad. Threw the trunk or something. It landed right on her. Who does that?"

"I know!" Harry agreed. He looked back at Cedric with wide, horrified eyes. "They must be some sort of deranged lunatic! No normal person goes around punching people with trunks."

"Yeah. Unfortunately that sort of thing does happen. Nearly unlimited possibilities, right? Unfortunately that includes deranged, serial trunk-punching lunatics," Cedric said, shaking his head. "It's a good idea to keep an eye out for the weird stuff, so keep that in mind."

Harry nodded. "Thanks. Don't worry, I'll be careful. I don't want to be anywhere near someone that trunk-punches people."

"Good. Now get back to your buddies before they send out search parties."

Nodding again, Harry turned around and left the cart.

"Trunk-punch man, trunk-punch man. He trunk-punches elephants, right in the can. Rams it up, what a surprise! Stuffs in in right up to the eyes. Look out! It's trunk-punch man!" he hummed as he left.

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Author's Note

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Still having a ton of fun reformatting all the things.

I probably wouldn't be doing this if the loss of formatting didn't fuck up the Adder's dialogue so bad. Reading it without the italics is a total mess.

Anyway, there was a lot of story in this one. Like, probably more than in any three or four chapters of Classic. A lot of it is actually pretty important, which is another shock. They just keep coming.

Harry's plant-o-phobia comes from a totally different source, since I felt like a tumbleweed blowing by was a bit too silly and random. Having a psychological breakdown because of that, no matter how stressed you are, seems a bit silly. Being "eaten" by a plant monster is a lot more reasonable, which is good. I had to keep that little psychological quirk in here because-

Oops. Never mind.

That said, there's a lot of random bits from Classic that either won't be making it to this version, or will be seriously toned down and de-emphasized. Despite my love of hiding important details in things that look like crack, some of it was, in fact, just crack.

The narwhals aren't just crack, in case you were wondering. Well, **just** crack, at least. It's pretty hard to say they're not crack altogether. So just mull on that a little bit.

For those of you that didn't read Classic, don't worry about the fact that half these notes don't make sense. And for the love of god, don't go read Classic just so you understand them.

That's not me using reverse-psychology or anything like that. You seriously shouldn't read it. All the good stuff in them will eventually be in here, and this is already shaping up to be much better. Something Familiar Classic is quite different, but there are parts similar enough that it might ruin a bit of fun.


	4. She's (Still) Always Wet

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Four

"She's (Still) Always Wet"

AKA

"Goo in the Hizz-ouse"

* * *

"I'm telling you man, the kid's great!" George declared happily, squeezing his way past another student.

Fred didn't have the same problem, as said student darted into the nearest compartment the moment she saw who was accompanying them. If the young wizard noticed, he didn't comment on it. Fred definitely did, though, and the dark look that momentarially crossed his face would have surprised anyone that knew him.

 _Allen Locklan. Ravenclaw. Fourth-year._

Fred was no seer, but he was pretty sure poor Allen was in for a rough first week.

"He's right, the kid has some serious potential," he agreed. "It's a good thing we got to him before anyone else did."

The twins' companions heaved a deep sigh. "Yes. Imagine, his first acquaintances might have been **good** influences. What a tragic waste."

"I know! Man, it's like you just… get me. You understand me on a totally spiritual level. Wait, did that sound like I was hitting on him?"

George nodded. "It totally sounded like you were hitting on him."

"Shit. Oh well. Merlin knows I could do worse."

"I am fairly certain I could not," their companion sighed. "Sometimes I am quite certain you inflict madness upon all those that associate with you, myself included.

Hand resting on the door to their compartment, George laughed and said, "Oh, come on. We're not that bad. You make it sound like-"

George's words ended suddenly as he slid the door open. All three boys paused with shocked looks on their faces as they stared into the compartment.

The floor was covered in a hardened, brown shell. The walls and ceiling were all coated with a thick layer of liquid chocolate. Small frog legs made of the stuff were scattered around, twitching feebly. There were strange crystal formations - maybe a foot tall - protruding from the floor here and there. Small orbs of fire were randomly embedded in the walls, their oddly liquid looking flames burning nothing. Strands of dark, purplish material as thick as a boy's arm hung draped from wall to wall and wall to ceiling. A full half of one bench was covered in a large, fluffy mass that looked suspiciously like whipped marshmallow.

Every now and then a drip of chocolate fell from the ceiling and hit the floor, exploding and becoming a mini version of the crystal formations. Each was accompanied by a puff of green vapor and the scent of wintergreen.

"Okay, so we probably shouldn't be allowed near impressionable kids," Fred decided. There was a noticeable amount of pride in his voice.

Harry and the two Familiars looked back at them with wide eyes. There was a definitely a "deer in the headlights" quality to their expressions. Viscous chocolate had coated all three of them, turning the black and white foxes a solid brown.

"You know…" George said slowly. "I realize we only told you to wait for Harry and make sure no one bugs him. I'm pretty sure you succeeded there, so good job on that. But I just feel like you maybe should have prevented whatever the hell happened here, too."

The three continued to give him a blank stare. Finally Ru blinked several times, hopped up onto Harry's shoulder and belted him across the back of the head with one paw.

The boy immediately said, "We didn't do it?"

This time Ri, now mounted on his other shoulder, belted him.

"We didn't do it!" Harry repeated with more conviction.

George, after racking his mind for several long seconds, finally came up with the perfect thing to say. It was sheer genius, the one sentence in existence perfectly suited for the situation. Unfortunately it went forever unvoiced, for at exactly that moment-

"Did the curtain just move?" George demanded, the ultimate mess-up compartment response blown from his mind.

Harry and both foxes turned to look at the curtain, then quickly looked away.

"Yeah, George. Of course it moved," Harry said casually. Both foxes on his shoulders nodded. "It a curtain in front of a window. They move."

"Not… not like that," Fred said weakly. "Is it whispering? Why does it sound like it's coming from **inside** my head?"

Harry produced what probably was meant to be a chuckle, but came out as a shrill giggle. "Of course not, Fred. Windows don't whisper. Especially if you stay at least a meter away from them at all times!"

"..."

"What exactly is going on?" the third wizard demanded, attempting to push forward slightly to get a better view inside. Unfortunately, his body brushed lightly against Fred's.

Lightly is a very relative term.

Fred's eyes shot open nearly as fast as his body shot into the cabin. It was like someone had just taken a large sledgehammer, given it to a gorilla and ordered the beast to belt him in the shoulder. The redhead let out a startled cry as he violently entered the cabin, whirling uncontrollably. He just barely missed Harry as he shot across the floor and slammed into the closed curtains. The black stuff on the other side made a pretty good landing point, its squishiness cushioning the impact.

There was a sigh of relief. All told, that hadn't been nearly as bad as it could have been.

That was the exact moment that a cluster of thin, black tentacles chose to erupt from the space between the curtains. Fred barely had time to release a panicked shriek before they were on him. Even as he pulled away, a pair managed to whip around his wrist. They quickly started writing up his arm. They brought his escape to a screeching stop and began slowly dragging him back towards the gap.

George reacted with admirable speed, easily vaulting Harry and sliding to the other side of the cabin. Grabbing his brother's other arm, he latched onto the nearest bench and began hauling with all his might. Even then he didn't manage to break Fred free, but he did manage to slow is trek toward the window to a crawl.

"Cut it off! Just cut it off!" Fred screamed as the tentacles worked further up his arm. "It can have the arm! I've got two!"

Straining against the impressive force tugging on his brother, George groaned with effort. It was starting to look like he'd be joining his brother, or end up tearing him in him in half. "We're not cutting anything! Leggo of my brother, you son of a bitch!"

Harry just started with horrified eyes. It was pretty obvious he, with his slight frame and questionable strength, would probably just get in the way. He really didn't want to see Fred get eaten, though. Maybe he should at least-

A heavy, wooden trunk slammed into the window with devastating force.

Harry registered the sound of glass breaking, and that of screaming. There was a lot more screaming than there should have been. A lot more glass shattering, too.

It took his mind several seconds to catch up enough to process that and realize what he had heard was the compartment windows on either side of theirs shattering, accompanied by suitably shocked cries from the occupants.

The stuff of nightmares produced a shrill cry of pain. The powerful impact stunned it for a moment, but it was already tugging at Fred weakly by the time the crash faded from Harry's ears. It didn't recover nearly fast enough, however. It didn't even haul the redhead a centimeter before a thin boy calmly strode into the cabin and wrapped a hand around the cluster of tentacles entrapping Fred's limb.

 _Is he insane!?_

The nightmare creature was obviously just as shocked, because it took a full second before it let out a cry and began wrapping tentacles up the boy's arm.

"Well. I do believe that will be enough of that," the wizard sighed, giving the monster a disapproving frown. To Harry, it looked like he was scolding a puppy that'd just piddled on the floor.

 _Nevermind. He's just suicid-_

The boy **squeezed** , His hand closed so hard that Harry was pretty sure he could actually hear the muscles tightening beneath his skin. It was kind of hard to tell for sure, since the pained scream the monster released pretty much drowned every other sound out. The keening only got worse as the boy yanked his arm back, stretching the tendrils in a way that didn't look healthy at all.

"If you are to share this compartment with us, I expect a certain level of civility. Is that understood?"

The beast screamed again. This time the wordless cry had a distinctly vulgar tone to it.

The boy obviously agreed, because he frowned and drew his arm back further. The tendrils he was holding looked like they were on the verge of snapping. "Allow me to repeat the question: is that understood?"

A defeated whine came from the window.

"Good. Just because you are a horrible abomination does not mean you must act like one," the boy said in satisfaction. "Please try to have some class."

"Harry? Can I ask you a question?" George asked with the shell-shocked can of someone who had just witnessed something unspeakably horrible.

"Umm… I guess?"

"Great. So… what the **hell** happened to the window!?" George shrieked.

The younger wizard (and fox passengers) have him a look that was 20% confusion, 80% innocence, and 100% fake. "The window broke, George, remember? You and Fred broke it."

The other three boys, as one, turned to look down at Fred. He was still had laying on the floor, exactly where he's fallen. The previously captured arm was clutched to his chest. He was stroking it gently, and occasionally whispers of, "Good armie," or "I won't let anyone take you, my precious armie," could be heard.

Their visitor cleared his throat and turned his attention back up towards the window. "I was not aware windows could break in such a dangerous manner. You had best be more careful about destroying them if they can become such monsters. Or is it perhaps it was defective glass, and a safety recall is in order?"

"I'm like, 99% sure most wizards don't even know what a safety recall is," George replied. "Besides, it wasn't a soul-devouring nightmare when we left, was it **Harry**."

Harry looked up at him for a second, then glanced back and forth at his vulpine co-conspirators. One shrugged, while the other reluctantly nodded. Having reached a consensus, he turned back to the redhead.

"Okay, so there's a slight chance that we might have possibly summoned what could be some kind of horrible extradimensional beast made of pure nightmares by accidentally performing a dark ritual using the worst snack I've ever seen. Maybe," Harry admitted. "I'm pretty sure it's just swamp gas or something, though."

"Your 'swamp gas' almost just ate Fred."

"Well, I didn't say it was **nice** swamp gas," Harry replied. He managed to meet George's gaze for several seconds before willing. "Yeah… sorry. The Goo can't reach much more than half a meter from the window. It wasn't a big deal, so we kind of forgot it was there until you asked about it."

"How do you forget the Goo is… Wait, you named it!?"

"It was easier than saying, 'horrible-spawn-of-madness-lurking-beyond-the-far-reaches-of-time-and-sanity,' everytime I mentioned it."

Finally climbing to his feet, Fred concurred, "He's right. That's a lot harder to say." Clapping their visitor on the shoulder, he added. "Thanks King. You're a prince among men. King among men… who is also a prince. I guess you're, like, the prince of one kingdom and the king of another. I'm not sure how that works, but you managed it. Go you."

King gave him an amused and relieved look. "I am glad you seem to be recovering quickly."

"Yeah, I recover Sanity Points improbably fast," Fred chuckled. "So, how the heck did you manage to summon that thing, anyway? You don't even know any magic yet."

It might have just been Harry, but it seemed like there was a slightly jealous tinge to Fred's tone.

"Okay, so, the snack cart came by. I was hungry, but I didn't know what anything is. So I gave the girls some money and told them to get us some stuff. They bought us a bunch of candy."  
Fred, George and King surveyed the destruction, critically eyeing the scattered wrappers.

"Exactly how much of that crap did you eat, kid?" George asked.

Harry thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "How much is the room actually shaking?"

"...a little from the tracks, but that's it."

"Oh. Oh~. Okay, so I'm going to go with 'a lot.' We ate a lot of candy," Harry said. "So, we made a little mess with the Chocolate Frogs. Did you know they bleed? They bleed a **lot**. Like, I don't even know how they fit all the cocoa blood in there, because-"

"Harry? Focus, buddy," George instructed. "You were telling us about the window from hell."

Harry gave him a confused look. "I was? I could have sworn we were talking about the frogs…"

" **You** were talking about the frogs, kid. **We** were talking about whatever the hell that is," George clarified, pointing at the broken window. "You know, the thing that just tried to suck Fred's brain out his ear."

Fred whimpred, "I like my brain where it is…"

"I know you do, Fred. I know you do."

Harry watched the window for a moment, observing the way the curtain pressed against it rippled and shifted unnaturally. "Oh. That. We decided to call it the Goo."

"Yeah, you said that."

"What, you don't thing 'Goo' is a good name? We liked it."

Fred rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It **is** pretty gooey."

"Whoa. Hold up. Who is 'we,' Harry? You got a mouse in your pocket or something?"

Harry rolled his eyes and pointed upp at one of the luggage racks. A pair of foxes were hunkered down amongst their things, watching the Goo warily. "I meant them, obviously. Ri and Ru."

There was a dumbfounded look on Fred's face as he examined Harry. "They **talked** to you? Seriously? Because I'm pretty sure that's something that shouldn't be happening."

"You think, Fred? They're foxes. They don't do a lot of talking. Not unless Harry is a vulpi-tongue or something," George muttered, giving the girls a suspicious look. "You weren't talking to him, right? Or does he have some kind of weird ability to talk to foxes?"

The Familiars paused in their surveillance of the Goo for long enough to snicker at him and shake their heads. It was amazing how effectively a fox could convey the phrase, "Are you stupid?" with a single look.

"Don't be dumb, George. Harry'd tell us if he could do something awesome like talk to foxes. Wouldn't you, Harry?"

The brief pang of guilt that shot through Harry was anything but pleasant. "I didn't talk to them. I just said a bunch of stuff and waited until they nodded. It took eighty-seven tries, but we ended up with 'Goo.' I'd definitely tell you if I could speak to foxes..."

"And speaking of telling us stuff, where the hell did that, uh, Goo come from, exactly? What's this about a dark ritual?"

"Oh. Right. So, we got way too much sugar, and the frogs went splat, I spilled stuff on accident and it exploded, then I spilled stuff on purpose and it went spalt **and** exploded," Harry explained… sort of.

"Hold up. You were mixing candy in frog blood on purpose?" George demanded. "Kid, don't do stuff like that. Seriously, not a good idea."

"Huh? Why?"

An arm fell across Harry's shoulders. Smiling at him, Fred said, "Hold up, Harry. Let the adults talk."

"But you're not-"

"Sh~, Harrynipples. Don't make this more awkward than it has to be," Fred shushed, pressing a finger to Harry's lips. "See, here's the thing. Magic candy does cool stuff because it… uh… magic. Potions and charms and stuff like that. It's meant to get all mixed up in your stomach, but not outside of it. Mixing that stuff together - especially using a magic liquid as a secondary reagent - isn't a good idea at all."

"No joke, Harry. You should see what happens when you mix Candy Rocks with an Acid Pop and add some water. The whole thing blows right up in a big way," George added.

Harry's looked back and forth between the brothers, searching for any sign of deception. "You guys are kidding, right?" he demanded. Eyes shifting to the new arrival, he repeated, "They're kidding, right?"

"Harry, you've got a stick in your pocket that could set Fred on fire. Just stand there and process that for a minute."

Fred whimpred, "Why me? I like my me not burned…"

"I am afraid not," the Goo-slayer sighed, "Mixing potions without knowing the consequences can be quite perilsom."

"Yeah, see? Even King…" Fred slowly trailed off, staring down at Harry. "I mean, I can see asking the girls, but **King**? You don't even know him!"

The boy in question - King, obviously - fixed Fred with a very put-out look. "Are you implying that I am the inferior source of information when compared to a small fox?"

"I know I don't know him, but I figure he's probably more reliable than you guys. Besides, the girls are up with our things, and I can't see them from here."

"...I am still inferior to an unusually small vulpine?"

"Two foxes, King. You're inferior to **two** forxes. Try to follow the conversation, man," Fred sighed. "Sorry Harry. King's a little… uh… he's King. He's not all there, but… You know how King is…."

"No, Fred, I don't. I just met him two minutes ago."

"Oh! Right Sorry Harry. It seems like I've known you forever. You're like the brother I actually wanted!" Fred proclaimed as he gave the younger boy a pat on the head. "I've been telling George we need to trade up for years, you know."

"I'll admit it, Fred. When you're right, you're right," George grudgingly conceded.

"Harrysack, this is our buddy King, savior of arms and chastizer of Goo. King, meet Harry Potter, infantile slayer of nasty assholes."

"Just one, actually, and he wasn't even a really impressive one," Harry corrected. "I'm Harry. Hi."

King, grudgingly, extended a hand. "I am Arthur King. Please call me King, as everyone else seems to. For future reference, I am a reliable and accurate source of information. I can say with most certainty that I rank above a pair of quadrupeds that are incapable of human speech."

Harry accepted the offered extremity and attempted to shake it.

He may as well have been trying to move a mountain. King's arm was like an steel bar, his hand like a titanium vice. His limb didn't so much as tremble. Just for the hell of it, Harry there his whole weight into it.

King's arm still didn't move.

The boy may as well have been a statue forged from iron. No, he went beyond iron. Iron spent its whole life hoping to be like King, but never quite made it.

"Holy shit," Harry muttered.

It should be impossible. There was no way a person could be so unyielding. But… now that Harry was focusing on him, there was something strange about King. If he looked really hard, King somehow have the impression of being two things at once.

On one level King was a thin, thirteen year old boy. He wore a sharp blazer, slacks and shirt combo that strongly suggested he wasn't raised by wizards. But on the other…

Harry got the distinct impression that he was something else entirely there. It gave the impression of tectonic plates grinding together. A thick layer of soil barely hiding the incredibly strong bedrock beneath. Steel cords flexing beneath a skin of compressed carbon.

"Whoa," Harry gasped.

"Wow. You saw it, huh?" George asked, clearly impressed.

Harry nodded slowly. "What… what was that?"

"It's the Bloodgift. You can kind of see it sometimes when you're touching someone that has one. Usually it's only when you're looking real hard, though, and some people don't see them at all," George replied. "Pretty impressive you just kind of picked up on it like that."

"Gift," King snorted. He reached down and grabbed his fallen trunk in one hand and swung it into the air. The sturdy trunk probably weighted 40kg, but King swung it like it was weightless. The corner of it slammed into the ceiling, cracking and splintering it. It then slammed into the luggage rack, visibly warping it. "And **that** is what happens when I do not act with care and measure my every movement."

Harry looked at the damage with wide, obviously impressed eyes. "Wow. How do I get one of those?"

"Sorry kid, but that's not how it works. You're born with them," George said with a shrug. "It's possible you **do** have one, though. They tend to start out asleep. Most people don't even know they have one until something wakes it up."

"I, for example, was hit by a rather large truck. Luckily the driver was ejected from the vehicle, so no major harm was done," King supplied.

It was pretty obvious to everyone in the compartment that Harry was seriously disappointed. "Why do only some people get them? That's not fair."

"Ah… y' see…" George stared up at the damaged ceiling, an abashed look on his face. "You… uh.. You've gotta have some nonhuman ancestry."

Harry gave him a puzzled frown. "What does that mean?"

"It means one of your ancestors stuck it in a-"

That was as far as Fred got before his brother slapped a hand across his mouth.

"It means a little bit of you ain't human. It's not a big deal. That happens when you summon your familiar anyway."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. You're swapping a chunk of your soul or whatever with something else. Sometimes it's a big chunk, depending on the person," George explained. "Some people even change in weird ways, but it's all good."

"... we change?" Harry asked quietly. It was pretty obvious he found the idea disturbing.

"Hey, don't worry Harrysack. That kind of thing is rare, and people don't change in ways they don't like," George soothed. "Your Familiar is part of you. It's not gonna screw you over."

"Besides, just look at King! He's just fine, and sometimes I think he's more elemental than human," Fred said cheerfully.

"I would appreciate it if you did not make light of my forebears' indiscretions," King muttered, shooting Fred a nasty glare.

Fred giggled. "Indiscretions? That's pretty judgemental, my liege. I'm sure your great-great-great-great-great granddaddy loved that pile of rocks like crazy."

"Merlin knows how he didn't rub it off on accident," George added. "Must've been some smooth rocks."

"Oh, I bet it got rubbed off. I bet he rubbed it off on those rocks real good."

King heaved a long-suffering sigh. Turning, he gave Harry a weary look. "You see? **This** is what I must put up with. Others have fled due to fear of my 'gift,' King grumbled. The sarcasm at the word "gift" was so thick you could practically see it hanging in the air. "I am left with only the foolish or deranged to associate with."

"Oh. That's okay. I think I might be one of those. It's fun."

"Yeah, King! It's fun!" George declared proudly, clapping a hand down on Harry's shoulder. Ri just barely managed to scramble away and take up residence next to her sister.

Harry suddenly realize it was surprisingly easy to get used to animals climbing all over you. He'd completely forgotten the girls were there.

It was a good thing he was getting used to it, too. The foxes had no intention of giving up their new pet.

"Admit it, your lordship. You love us and you know it. You wouldn't trade up even if you could," Fred laughed.

King sighed and looked away, but didn't say a word to deny the accusation.

"So, this might be a dumb question, but what's an elemental?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Oh my. How rude of me! This is my Familiar, Lady. She is an elemental of the water sortf," King started, gesturing at the empty air behind him.

Harry examined the space, trying to figure out what to say without sounding stupid. Was this a test of some kind? Finally, after a great deal of debate, he settled on, "She's invisible? That's really cool."

A faint snickering came from two sets of twins.

"Hey, King? You ever feel like you're missing something?" George inquired.

Giggling, Fred added, "You know, I think he might be Familiar with that feeling."

King frowned at the remark and turned to look behind himself. His expression immediately changed to one of confusion. "How odd. I am quite certain she was right behind me…" King muttered. "Lady? Where on Earth are you? You had best not be playing in the plumbing again. It is not sanitary."

A small motion behind the door caught Harry's attention. It was hard to tell, but it looked like someone lurking outside and peeping.

"There you are. Why are you peering in like some second-story man? Come in and say hello to Harry."

There person outside shifted, turning to give the hardened chocolate floor a wary look.

"Oh, I see. There is nothing to fear, dear. The floor is not cold, it's just…" King trailed off as he studied the floor. Clouds of greenish mist were still floating around. "Wintergreened."

"There's some peppermint in there too," Harry added.

"See? It is quite safe."

Hesitantly, the figure extended a leg and gave the floor a cautious tap. When that failed to have any effect she gave it another, considerably more confident touch. A moment passed, during which their visitor considered the situation, before she quietly slipped into the room. As she came out from behind the door, Harry couldn't help but gape.

She was made of water.

From head to toe, every single inch of her body was made of crystal clear liquid. Her slender arms, narrow waist, long legs and modest chest were all semi-transparent. He was pretty sure he could see movement **inside** of her, too, as every tiny motion stirred up the fluid making up her innards.

The creature was quite lovely, Harry decided, even if everything seemed just a little off. She was almost too feminine, looking more like the "Photoshopped whores" in Petunia's magazines than a real girl. Her proportions and curves were a little strange in a way Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like a sculptor had formed a statue of a woman from water, but was working based on a description rather than firsthand knowledge.

Harry was starting to wonder how many shocks and fantastic sights his mind could take before it broke.

Lady's face was surprisingly expressive, considering how ill-defined and vague her features were. It was like someone had made a mold of their face, then poured water into it. You could see the general shape, but not much more. Despite that, the curiosity there was quite evident.

"Hello, Lady. I'm Harry," he said quietly.

The elemental raised a hand and waggled her fingers at him in greeting.

Studying her, Harry inquired, "Is she **really** made of water?"

As if to answer his question, Lady suddenly broke apart and became a mass of woman-shaped water. The liquid moved in way that were clearly a big "fuck you" to both gravity and fluid dynamics. Some of her flowed rapidly across the level floor, while even more twisted through the air. It was like she was travelling through a dozen invisible hoses of various size. She hit her wizard and swept around his body, reforming behind him with her arms around his chest and head resting on his shoulder. Little ripples ran across her body in a way that was somehow immediately recognizable as giggling.

"She is a water elemental, Harry. It would be strange if she was not made of water," King chuckled. "Though, technically speaking, she is not made of water at all. An elemental is a semi-corporeal spirit inhabiting a mass of inanimate material."

"Why water?"

King shrugged. "Most elementals are born of catastrophic disasters. Lady, being a water elemental, was most likely birthed from a flood or tsunami. Had a tornado created her, she would be a wind elemental. An earthquake or landslide would make her an earth elemental instead."

"Yeah, King's family knows all about-" Fred's comment ended in a pained gasp as a fox slammed into his gut. A moment later a second fox plowed into his face hard enough to knock him off his feet.

Smiling slightly, King observed, "I do believe they are saying enough has been said on that matter. For this moment at least."

"So does that mean something like a forest burning down would make a fire elemental?" Harry asked curiously.

King nodded, a pleased smile on his face. "Indeed! Very well reasoned."

Harry thought for a second, studying the Familiar. "Well, it's good it was a flood, then. I don't think she'd be as cool if she was any of the other stuff."

Ripples once again covered Lady's surface. She twisted and ran around King's body to reform in front of him. Stepping towards Harry, she dropped down into a crouch. It was another odd, liquid movement that involved more flowing than bending. Harry was kind of figuring that was how she tended to move: half in normal, human motions and half in watery sloshes.

The elemental raised an arm and extended a finger. Harry assumed she was giving him the chance to touch her, but he wasn't entirely sure. So, instead of matching the movement, he looked at her limb uncertainty. He was old enough to know running around touching girls wasn't polite, and he didn't see how her being inhuman would change that.

King obviously misinterpreted the source of he hesitation. "It is quite alright, Harry. Lady is as kind and gentle as a creature can be. She would never deliberately hurt you."

"Yeah, not on purpose," George snorted. "You should ask Fred about her hugs…"

"Oh man, it was the best hug ever! Probably the most hardcore, too," Fred said excitedly.. "Would have been pretty cool if it wasn't so wet and drownedy in there. Turns out there's not a lot of air in a water elemental."

"Go figure, Fred. What the idiot's trying to say is that when she can get a little too excited and pull your head **into** her chest instead of against it."

"Oh."

King made a broad, helpless gesture. "Yes, she does have some difficulty maintaining her surface tension when overly excited. We have been working on it, though, and she has improved considerably."

Taking the warning into consideration, Harry nodded. Were most people would hear, "She might suffocate you on accident," the young boy heard, "You can touch the girl made of water."

He cautiously raised his hand, one finger extended to match Lady's. It seemed like he went a little too slow, though. Instead of patiently waiting for him, she suddenly leaned forward and thrust her open hand towards him. He didn't even have a chance to react before she impaled it on his finger.

There was a brief moment of resistance, like he was poking a particularly firm lump of gelatin, then his fingertip broke through and into her body. Once past that minor barrier he found that she was, indeed, made of water. Watching in fasciation, he swirled his finger around experimentally.

Either Lady was ticklished or she was quite amused by this, because more ripples crossed her surface. They caused an odd sliding sensation when they hit his finger.

"She can't talk, can she?" Harry suddenly asked.

King gave him another brilliant smile. 'It will be quite nice to have someone intelligent to talk to on occasion. You have once again presumed correctly. My dear Lady lacks anything resembling vocal chords, and we have yet to find some manner of replacement. We simply muddle along the best we can."

"That's too bad," Harry said sadly. "I bet she'd have a pretty voice. She- Ah!"

Harry yelped in surprise as the elemental suddenly launched herself forward. Body collapsing and losing form, she surged under his outstretched hand before he could react. Harry gasped in shock as she reformed just centimeters in front of him, already wrapping her arms around him even as they solidified. The liquid limbs locked behind his head and yanked him into her chest.

It was the "against" kind of into, thank a 180

Lady gave him a brief squeeze before releasing him and backing away. She spun around without turning, just sort of deforming and changing which side was the front instead, and slipped past King. Twirling, she plopped down onto the seat and gave him an expectant look.

"My dear, I am not certain that is a good idea," King said, warily eyeing the subjectated Goo. "Perhaps we should find another compartment."

"Yeah. About that," George began. "Did you even look into the compartments we passed? They're all half full, at least. We'd have to split up if we wanted to move."

Unvoiced went the thought that King could quite easily clear a compartment out for them. As convenient as it would be, he **really** didn't want to use his classmates' fear of the guy like that.

"How big is this compartment, anyway. I'm… uh… having a hard time telling," Harry inquired. "It's like it's a different size everytime I look around, and it's always the wrong size."

George shrugged. "Space manipulation spells tend to do that, especially the cheap ones. These compartments feed off our magic and get bigger the more they get. There's a limit, though, and they **are** cheap charms. Any more than eight or so people and someone gets booted."

"Yeah, or the whole thing goes boom," Fred snickered.

George eyed the corners of the room warily. The effect of the enchantment was, in reality, based on total magic rather than number of people. Eight was just a rough estimate, and one that could change significantly depending on the people in question. The edges of the room were wavering ever-so-slightly up by the roof already, a sure sign that the magic was close to its limits.

He really hoped Harry and King didn't notice that. It would be pretty hard to explain.

"I'm pretty sure King counts as, like, twelve and a half people, so we may as well stay here," Fred added.

"I still do not-"

Fred clapped King on the shoulder, then immediately winced. Shaking his abused hand, he said, "King, buddy, it'll be fine. We just have to stay away from it. Not provoking it would be good, too. I also suggest staying away from it and not looking directly at it. Actually, we probably shouldn't even think about it, other than to keep in mind that it might come for our souls at any moment. Oh, and we should stay away from it."

"You suggested we stay away from it three times," King pointed out.

"Yeah. I know."

Sighing, King trudged over and dropped into the seat between Lady and the former window. The Goo gurgled and shifted for a moment, but quickly settled down when King pointedly raised a hand and balled it into a fist.

"See? Not a problem," Fred said happily, sitting on the same bench and putting both Lady and King between himself and the Goo.

"Yep. Easy-peasy," George added, taking the last seat to use Lady, King and Fred as meat shields.

Harry warily examined the remaining bench, then slowly sat down at the very end. He was so occupied with watching the window that he didn't notice Lady move until she had already crossed the compartment. As she plopped down beside him, he couldn't quite suppress the startled yelp.

Harry looked at the elemental for a moment, then up at the Goo on the other side of her. "Uh, thanks, but that's kind of dangerous. You don't have to… uh…" he trailed off, eyes widening.

Raising one arm, Lady turned it back and forth in what was obviously meant to be a "nothing up my sleeve" motion. Once she was absolutely sure she had the wizard's attention, she snapped her wrist. Her hand vanished as her entire forearm turned into something that very much looked like a long, serrated blade made of water. Something about the edge immediately led Harry to conclude it was a lot sharper than any mass of liquid had any right to be.

"Lady, when not giving hugs, has most excellent control of her body. Trying to consume her would be something akin to attempting to eat a running blender," King said proudly.

"So, do all Familiars have cutty-pointy parts? Because I'm kind of sensing a pattern here…"

"The awesome ones do," Fred replied. "Just hope you don't end up with something lame like a fox. That would su-"

Fred never got to finish the sentence. A pair of furry projectiles shot out of the luggage rack that King hadn't destroyed and slammed into his skull. They immediately latched on and initiated a brutal mauling that caused him to fall off the bench, kicking and screaming.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they have cutty-pointy parts. Either that or they're really good at licking faces off," Harry observed.

George sighed. "Yeah, Fred really likes pissing the girls off for some reason. I'm starting to think he's a masochist or something."

"Sadomasochistic would most likely be more accurate, given your love of spreading ruin and humiliation to anyone whom bothers you."

"How dare you accuse us of discrimination!" Fred snapped.

He plopped down onto the seat between Harry and Lady, plucking the foxes of his head with surprising easy. Harry only had a vague idea of what masochism was, but the fact that the redhead had so easily removed his aggressors raised a question or two. The foxes, having meted out suitable justice, now seemed content the sit in his lap and receive the petting they were surely owed.

"We target **everyone**!" he finished proudly.

"Though, some a little more than others. Just a tad, though," George admitted, spreading his arms as wide as he could to indicate the size of his "tad."

"Speaking of that, where's your snake go?" Fred suddenly asked, drawing confused looks from the rest of the compartment.

"Fred? What the hell did that have to do with anything?"

"You were talking about a tad."

"Yeah?"

"And it's a snake."

The three other wizards sat there looking at Fred expectantly for several seconds before they realized that was the entire explanation.

"Why do I even ask…?" George muttered.

"So where'd he go?"

Harry shrugged. "You saw him last."

"...right. And it doesn't bother you that your snake is missing?" George inquired.

"Not really. He's the Adder. He's probably in front mugging the conductor or something."

The statement drew to confused looks, one impressed look and one look of watery disinterest. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

"This might seem like a stupid question, but keep in mind the sort of things that go on around here. You're kidding, right?" George demanded. "That thing's a normal snake. Hella smart, but normal. There's no way he could actually do that."

Harry shook his head and gave the redhead a pitying look. "Don't be silly, George. Of course he can't."

"Okay, good. That would've been a bit to weird, even for-"

A sharp click cut George off. The redhead's eyes widened as he took in the slim knife Harry held up for him to examine.

"I took his knife away. How's he supposed to mug anyone without his knife?"

Fred gave the weapon a confused look. "Why would your snake need a knife. He's a **snake**."

"For mugging people. Obviously."

George stared at the blade for a long moment. "You know what? I'm just going to pretend this conversation never happened and assume the snake is doing something less ridiculous than mugging the conductor, with or without a knife."

"Don't worry, brother. He's probably just biting someone's bollocks."

Harry thought for a moment. "Yeah, that's also pretty likely."

* * *

In the rear cars, a Familiar rested reclined against a pile of pillows. She was quite easily identifiable as what most would call a lamia or naga. Her thick, black coils were sloppily arranged around her beautiful woman's torso. It seemed pretty likely she could crush a car, let alone a man.

Altogether, she had a serious "look, but don't touch" feeling about her.

 _Hey baby._

The naga paused, file stopping halfway across the nail she was working on. Frowning, she turned her gaze down toward the voice.

There was a small snake sitting before her, curled up on one of her coils.

 _So, hot stuff, you ever been with an adder before?_

* * *

"I feel like something terrible just happened," Harry suddenly declared.

Fred snickered quietly, while George just shook his head and said, "Yeah, you might want to get used to that feeling. And speaking of which, can I have that knife? I'm pretty sure that's not something a kid should have."

Harry gave him the "Are You Stupid" look. "I have a stick that could set you on fire, remember?"

"Oh, right. Wait, why me? Set the ugly one on fire."

"You do know you look the same, right? Besides, I can't-. Oh! Hey, can you guys show me how to set-"

Fred, George and King all quickly said, "No," as one.

Frowning, Harry protested, "But you don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"Actually, I am fairly sure that we do," King disagreed.

"And the answer is no," George added.

Harry glared at him, eyes slowly narrowing in suspicion. "George… you're not working for… Them, are you? That's why you won't do it. You're protecting… Them."

"Oh dear Merlin…"

King gave the young boy a confused look. "Them? Are you referring to the Illuminati, or perhaps the Masons?"

"The plants."

Expression growing even more confused, King stated, "I do not believe I have heard of that group, even in passing."

"It's not a conspiracy thing, King," George sighed. "He's talking about plants. Actual plants. All of them."

"Why would-"

"A Snapdragon tried to eat him!" Fred interjected. "It was horrible. I barely managed to save him, but it was touch and go. I think I might be scarred for life."

Harry seemed to be oblivious to this byplay as he continued to stare intently at George. "Is that why the Goo tried to eat you, George?" he asked in a soft whisper. "Is it because it was trying to protect me? Is it because it knew you were working for the… plants?"

"Okay, first of all, do you really have to pause before you refer to 'them' every single time? It's kind of annoying. And second of all, the Goo didn't try to eat me. It tried to eat Fred, remember? If it was protecting you from someone, it would be him."

Harry's suspicious gaze immediately shifted to Fred. The redhead, still sitting beside him, slowly started to go pale.

"George? Buddy? You remember he has a knife, right? A really sharp snake-mugger knife that could definitely poke someone sitting right in front of him?"

George sighed. "Harry, chill. If anyone's working with the plants, it's the Goo. I mean, just look at it. Doesn't it look like the kind of guy… thing that would work with plants? It's so horrible it **has** to be on their side, right? It was trying to eat me and Fred because it knows we want to protect you."

There was a brief pause, then Harry's face lit up with realization. "Oh, that makes sense. Yeah, it's definitely bad, which means it probably **is** working for them. They are the root of all evil after all."

Fred snickered, earning himself a kick in the shin from his brother. Harry didn't quite seem to catch it, as he was busy glaring at the Goo.

"We should set the vile, plant-loving mass of spoiled pudding on fire," Harry said decisively.

Fred nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I can get behind that! Bastard almost took my squeezin' arm!"

"You mean your 'alone time' arm, brother. Still, I think seeing if it burns could be a good idea."

"I think that as long as it is behaving we should simply leave it-"

There was a sharp, annoyed pounding at their door. As engrossed as they were in studying the Goo, the noise caught them all by surprise. All three boys, King included, turned to face the sudden sound.

The Goo, perhaps figuring it had nothing to lose after all the talk about setting it on fire, chose that moment to strike. It bunched itself up and snapped forward like a rubberband. The motion was apparently enough to tear it free from the window, because it launched straight out and crossed the short distance between itself and King in an instant. Before anyone could react, the wiggling black mass was wrapped firmly around his head.

King tried to scream in shock, but was muffled by the encroaching evil.

Harry and George did a much better job at screaming in shock.

Lady rippled violently with the force of a silent scream.

Fred shrieked like a little girl.

Both foxes immediately abandoned their wizard's lap in favor of diving under the bench.

The door slid open, revealing a pretty young witch in Ravenclaw robes. Her face had an obviously oriental cast, and was wearing a decidedly annoyed look and a rather nasty bruise.

"Don't you guys answer the door? It's time to put on-"

King staggered forward, both hands tearing at the Goo. They managed to yank large chunks of it away, stretching the creature's body like warm taffy. It pulled the beast tight enough across his face that it could easily be seen beneath a film of living black horror. His eyes were bulging in panic and his mouth was still open wide, but now in an expression of anger.

The witch screamed.

The Nightmare Goo, perhaps deciding this wasn't a good idea after all, decided abandoning ship would probably be the best course of action. Gathering itself as best it could, it slipped King's grasp and hurled itself towards the witch.

It probably wasn't the wises course of action, considering reaching toward the girl meant it had to uncover most of King's face. One of the boy's arms flashed out and, having finally gotten a good grip on it, violently tore the Goo free. The creature screamed in horror as it was hurled back toward the window from whence it came. There was a loud crash as it plowed straight through what was left of the glass. It almost flew straight out of the train, but managed to lash out and grab the frame at the last moment.

King promptly marched across the cabin, stopped before the window and unleashed a brutal kick straight into the panicking mass.

There was another pained squeal. Spreading itself thin, the Goo shot slim tendrils out in every direction, grabbing the floor, wall and ceiling in as many places as it could. Doing this allowed it to just barely avoid being kicked straight out of the locomotive.

King, it seemed, took this as a personal slight. Raising his foot again, he snapped, "I said good **day**!" and slammed his foot into it even harder than before.

Screams came from up and down the car, first as every intact window shattered and then as the car itself jerked and leaned noticeably to one side. A high, metallic scream came from the train's wheels as they fought against the track. The vehicle struggled to break free for a moment before finally settling back down.

The Goo wasn't so lucky. While it didn't lose hold on everything it had grabbed, that everything lost its grip on everything else. The horrible sounds of wood and metal tearing just barely managed to be heard over the thunderous retort from King's kick.

The Goo screamed again as it vanished into the darkness, taking a good chunk of the compartment with it.

The impact nearly toppled the witch, pitching her to the messy floor. Luckily, her fall was averted at the last moment by a pair of watery arms wrapping around her. It was a stroke of good fortune that would have been even better if Lady had remembered to unblade her arms first. The witch may not have ended up on the floor, but she **did** suddenly find herself with a pair of liquid blades surrounding her head like some sort of bizarre guillotine.

The witch yelled as a hand fell in her shoulder. Looking up, she paled at the sight of a blood-covered face looking down at her. It wasn't even just his face, either. The boy's entire chest was a red, sticky mess.

"Yo. You okay?" George asked.

Before the girl could answer (or try to escape), a hoarse groan of, "Br~ains~" caught her attention. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Fred. The young wizard was sitting half-slumped in his seat, reaching out towards her weakly. He flailed the limb around a bit, as if desperately trying to reach her.

"Guys, I think you're scaring her. Uh, Lady? Arms?" a soft voice said. The witch sighed as the blade of liquid death became perfectly normal arms made of water. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks," the witch replied, straightening and backing away from the redheads slowly. "I really-"

Her eyes widened as her gaze suddenly rose high enough to take in her savior. A thick, brown mucus covered every inch of his body. King's kick has lossened the slimy strands that were formely strung around the compartment. Now thick, ropey lengths of black slime hung from his head and covered most of his body. A large number of Chocolate Frog legs covered it, still twitching.

There was a weak, scratcy groan of, "Brains," from somewhere behind Harry.

The girl froze.

"So, uh, did you need something?" Harry asked.

The girl just stared at him.

"...hello?"

In the same raspy groan, Fred added, "Br~ains~..."

"I don't think you're helping, Fred. Hey, anyone in there," Harry asked, waving a hand in front of the witch's face.

She blinked several times, then gave him a shell-shocked look. "Train. Hogsmeade. Robes," she replied weakly.

"Oh. Someone must've sent her to tell us it's time to change. Weird, usually the prefects do that," Fred said thoughtfully. He gave her a pat on the shoulder, splattering her with red fluid and drawing out a frightened whimper. "Thanks for that."

"Br~ains~..."

"Hey, are you sure you're alright?' Harry asked with a concerned look on his slimy brown face. "Because you don't look alright."

"I think I just peed myself…"

George looked at her, then wrinkled his nose and looked away. "I think you might've done more than that. You, uh, you might wanna go change your robes, too. Like, fast."

The girl nodded dumbly.

"Yeah, so…"

"Can- can I go?" she suddenly asked.

The boys and multipack of assorted Familiars exchanged confused looks.

"Sure…" George said slowly. "You **sure** you're okay, because-"

"Thankyoufornoteatingme!" the girl screamed, turning tail and hoofing it down the hall.

A moment later there was the sound of a door slamming open and a cry of, "Cho! What happened to- Oh my god, did you shart yourself or something!?"

The wizards stared after her for several long seconds, trying to figure out what had just happened. Finally Harry tugged a slimy licorice strand off his head and asked, "Man, is everyone around here as weird as her?"

'Eh, there's some strange ones around," George shrugged.

"Br~ains~."

"Merlin's beard, Fred," George muttered. He quickly crossed the compartment and slugged his brother in the gut. A trio of slimy objects launched out of his mouth, flew across the compartment and nailed King in the side of the head.

Watching the brain-shaped gummies slide down King's cheek, Harry said, "Oh. Brains."

"Lovely," King muttered.

"What the hell, Fred? What have I told you about shoving handfuls of those damn things in your mouth?" George snapped. "One at a time!"

Fred gasped a few times, then slowly straightened. Judging by the hand he held against his gut and his pained grimace, it was pretty obvious his brother hadn't held back at all.

"But I love Cortex Chews! They make me feel smart!" he protested. Leaning forward, he peeled a brain off King's face and popped it into his mouth.

"You **are** smart, you moron. You're the dumbest genius I've ever heard of, but you're still smart," George sighed. He also peeled a Cortex Chew off King's face. He stared at it for a moment, then apparently decided against eating it. Instead, he held it out to Harry and said, "Here ya go, kid. I'm assuming this is yours, since I don't let Fred buy these things anymore."

"Yeah, you can keep it," Harry replied, pushing the offered gummy aside. "Do they really make you smarter?"

George shook his head. "No way. That kind of thing is some seriously high-level potions work. They just have a little drop of some sort of delusion potion in the middle. It just makes you **think** you're smarter."

"Oh. Weird."

"Yeah. Sorry about Fred stealing your sugar," George said, shaking his head. "He's got sticky fingers where those things are concerned, and not just because he takes them out of his mouth and plays with them."

Harry giggled slightly, drawing a weird look from the others. "That's okay. I've got plenty."

"Besides, I do believe you are in no position to throw stones," King declared. "You do realize the Vampire Bites you stole burst during the commotion, yes?"

George surveyed his own body, dragging a finger across his chest and sticking it in his mouth. Around the digit he simply said, "Oops."

"I said it's okay," Harry repeated. "You can keep the Sugar Bombs and gum you took, too."

George stared at him for a moment. "How the hell did-"

"Is it weird that I feel safer now that there's a massive hole in our compartment?" Fred asked, gesturing toward the hole in question. Most of the wall was gone, along with part of the floor and ceiling. The assorted wizards and Familiars could quite clearly see the terrain rushing by as the wind tugged at their clothes. "Like, I kind of feel like a death-hole lined with splinters and stabby metal bits should worry me."

King shrugged, attempting to dislodge his trunk from the bent storage rack. After several tries he apparently gave up on doing so gently. Instead of pulling it free he just reached up and yanked the entire rack down. He quickly caught his trunk, then set Harry's down on the floor at his feet.

"It is almost certainly preferable to the abomination that recently occupied that space."

"Yeah, about that. Where in the _**blackened heart of the darkest pits filled with endless joy drawn from the throes of suffering**_ did that thing come from?"

There was a brief moment of silence

"Guys? What's up?"

King cleared his throat and subtly shifted away from the redhead. "That is somewhat disconcerting."

"Relax, it's just his egg allergy. I'm sure it'll get better if he doesn't have any for a while."

"I am quite certain that an allergy will not-"

" **Anyway** , as much as I wanna hear how Harry summoned a blob made of pure fear and suffering, there's a huge hole in our compartment and we're almost to Hogsmeade. If we don't kick it into gear, everyone out there is gonna get a free look at our bare arses. I really don't want that to happen, because I'm pretty sure mine's worth at least a knut or two a look, and it's hard to sell something if you're giving it away for free. We better change," Fred pointed out.

"I do believe there is a minor problem with that. The partial destruction of the compartment has left us with precious little room to move about, and I do believe the expansion enchantments are failing."

The group scratched their chins, expressions of deep thought on their faces as they pondered the problem..

"King could break the wall," Harry suddenly suggested. "The hall's wide enough for two people. We'd have lots of room if it was part of the compartment."

There was another brief silence, followed by the sound of King cracking his knuckles.

* * *

And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

Yeah, this one took a while. I'm still trying to get a few chapters ahead of things. I must have rewritten this chapter and the next fifty times combined at this point. On top of that, I'm still butting my head against the wall working on Unheroic and New Game Plus, writing a Visual Novel and shopping for a house. Time is spread pretty thin, though writing is still my primary hobby.

There were obviously some pretty major changes to this part of the story. I think King and Lady are probably the biggest and most obvious.

When I first created the pair, they were intended to be sort of an one-off Monty Python reference. King ended up being sort of a lovable buffoon, though later on it was established that he was highly intelligent. His blindspot for his own inherent spell Bloodgift made him look even stupider. I figured I'd shift his character to make it a little more consistent, and got rid of his unnaturally high density as well.

Lady is just… Lady. It was kind of hinted at that she was a little more intelligent than most people assumed, but it's definitely a lot more apparent now. I'm pretty happy with that since, like her wizard, she came off as being a lot dimmer than I wanted. She wasn't supposed to be dumb or lack reasoning ability, her intelligence just isn't the same as a human's. I think it'll make a lot of her strange behavior look playful or like a lack of understanding, rather than stupid.

As a whole I'm pretty happy with how things are progressing. I'm pretty sure there's already been more plot development than in all of the classic version. I'm hoping that I can keep that up, and to make everything more consistent in the end. Because of that, some things will be happening a lot slower than in the original.

It's going to be a while before everyone's favorite dominatrix shows up. Sorry about that, but that whole plot thread was one of the worst offenders when I was thinking about what bits I rushed.

I'm going to try to get future chapters up in a more timely manner, but I'm still running pretty far behind as far as writing ahead goes. As mentioned before, I'm also really, really trying to work on my other stories as well. I'm rewriting what little I had already done on them, because that's what I apparently do, but I"ll get there.

One more thing: if you read Something Familiar Classic, I'd really, really appreciate your input on the rewrite. I of course would love everyone's input, whether or not you read SFC, but I'd like returning readers' in particular. There's a lot of changes in this one, so I'm interested to know how it compares.

A final, random note: the initialism SFC amuses me because it's also my job title. Extra points if you can figure out what that is. Well, extra points and my condolences for putting actual thought into something so useless.


	5. It's Sort of Familiar

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Five

"It's Sort of Familiar..."

AKA

"How Do Hats Get Naked?"

* * *

The rest of the trip passed peacefully.

Well, if you wanted to be really accurate, the rest of the trip passed with the four boys doing their best to change in their robes while desperately trying not to fall off the speeding train. Even after King "accidentally" destroyed the cabin wall and barricaded off both sides of the hall with wreckage, they weren't left with a whole lot of space. Some carefully chaperoning by both King and Lady was probably all that prevented the others from tumbling to a gristly doom.

Despite Fred's worries, they managed to change in plenty of time to keep him from accidentally flashing his bare arse at anyone. It didn't, however, keep him from flashing his bare arse on purpose. As they pulled to a stop directly in front of Hagrid, Harry wasn't sure whether the large man's raised eyebrow was for the pale rear wiggling at him, or the fact that he could see said ass despite the fact there should be a wall in the way.

There was an exasperated hiss of, "Damn it, Fred, put that away!' It was followed with the sharp thwap of a hand meeting a skull, then the dull thunk of a skull meeting concrete a moment later.

"Hi Hagrid! I didn't know I'd see you!" Harry said happily, hopping out through the hole in the side of the train. "What're you doing here?"

Hagrid chuckled slightly, wondering if Harry was planning on acknowledging the massive damage to the train, or just ignoring it.

"I am responsible for overseeing the upkeep of the castle and her creatures, as well as raising potion and spell components for the classes," Hagrid said proudly. Then, a bit more abashed, he continued, "I'm afraid I went a bit barmy at the prospect of having my own private game reserve, let myself be talked into the position. I've no other duties at this time of the year, so I suppose it works out. I'd go bloody bonkers with the young master at university otherwise."

Harry nodded agreeably, as if he had some clue what his large friend was talking about. To be honest, the fact that Hagrid would be so proud of his position still completely mystified the boy. "Well, no offence, but I hope you take better care of the castle than you do this… uh… this…"

The platform was more of a poured concrete slab in the middle of nowhere than anything deserving of such a grand name. The surface was pitted and chipped from the impact of countless metal-bound trunks, standed from thousands of kilograms of dropped food and drink, and covered in dead twigs and small stones. In the center there was a single, flickering lamp post that seemed to be more rust than post, along with a pile of rotted wood and decayed metal that might have been a bench at some point.

A thick, white mist was huddled around the edges of the platform. It was so thick it almost looked like an undulating sheet of fabric, and even in the dim light of a full moon it glowed with an eerie luminescence. It was disturbing enough that the gathered students were actually pressing back away from it, getting as close to the ruined bench as they dared.

"I feel like I'm in a horror movie, Hagrid," Harry complained.

Hagrid chuckled at the comment. "It's all to cock, isn't it? Believe me, it'd not look like the front yard of a dosshouse if it were in my domain. That aside, I see you've had quite the interesting trip."

Harry started to turn towards the train, then suddenly froze about halfway there. Very slowly, he forced himself to rotate his head back around and meet Hagrid's gaze.

"It wasn't all that interesting, Hagrid. I've never been on a train before, so that was kind of cool, but not really anything to write home about," Harry replied.

If he didn't acknowledge it, it wasn't there!

"Really? Then you don't find the utter annihilation of half a car to be remarkable in the least?" Hagrid snorted in amusement. "I'd be quite afraid to see what kind of dodgy business it took to be noteworthy, then."

Harry thought briefly, then shrugged. "I don't suppose you'd believe that it was like this when we found-"

From behind him came a tortured metal squeal and the sound of splintering wood. It was quickly followed by a heavy thump and another tortured groan.

Harry paused again, then sighed and slumped slightly. "Was that sound King ripping a luggage rack out of the wall?"

"Like it was a doddle," Hagrid confirmed.

"I did try to remove it gently, but the foolish thing simply would not cooperate," King said defensively.

Hagrid let out a deep chuckle. "Not to worry, bod. The Express is not within my domain either. I'm simply here to ensure your wellbeing on your way to the castle. Did you nutters manage to harm anyone this year?"

"Just me!" Fred said proudly. "I have a concussion or seven, came close to choking to death, and I was almost eaten by a nightmare-beast from beyond the end of time."

"I see. A good trip, then?"

"Yep!"

Harry gave Fred an incredulous look and demanded, "You call **that** a good trip!? How are you even alive!?"

In answer to Harry's shocked question, Fred reached in his shirt and pulled out a silver pendant an a thin iron chain. "King got me this for Christmas our first year, after he accidentally knocked me through a greenhouse wall. It's a Balanced Harm Charm."

"Awesome. You remember I have no idea what that is, right?"

"It's a kind of enchantment almost no one uses. It kind of spreads the hurt out. Fred's little injuries end up being worse, but the bad ones aren't nearly as bad," George said. He suddenly turned and have his brother a light smack to the gut. There was a pained gasp as the air was driven from his lungs, leaving him to crumple to the ground. "See? No way that's drop me, or even you. The upshot is wailing him with a sledgehammer would have about the same effect."

"... you suck…"

"I know, brother. I know," George agreed with a grin. "Not too many people get seriously injured enough to make it worth it, but it keeps Fred from getting maimed too bad."

Hagrid sighed and shook his head. "English wizards have all but abandoned most forms of sacrificial magic. There is great power in surrendering something of value, but no one wishes to do so. They do not want to pay a cost, whether it be a sacrifice or even the effort to cast a complex spell."

"I guess that makes sense."

"In a way, lad. But as with so many things in life, you won't get anything worthwhile if you bog off," Hagrid pointed out. "There's a reason many parts of the work practice multiple kinds of magic."

"Why don't we? Is it just because people are lazy?"

Hagrid shrugged helplessly. "That's a bit of a story, and one we have too little time for. If you lads will pardon me, I'd best round these little buggers up."

It took a few minutes, but eventually Hagrid did manage to round the buggers in question up. Leaving the others behind, the nervous first-years followed their large guide into the mist.

It wasn't long before Harry started wishing he had Fred's pendant. He had a feeling he'd need it.

Visibility sucked, and only the light from Hagrid's lantern-thing guided him through the darkness. Luckily the odd, floating ball of flame cast a lot of light about as it hovered along after the gamekeeper.

Harry couldn't help but wonder how one kept a creature that seemed to be made of pure flame in their pocket, but quickly found he had other things to worry about.

He could barely see his hand at the end of his outstretched arm, and the narrow path was full of rocks and the grasping roots of vile trees and bushes. The leafy bastards were everywhere, tugging at his robes and trying to catch his feet. Despite their efforts to destroy him Harry was doing quite well until…

Harry blinked as he suddenly realized there was no ground under his feet.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that Hagrid's floating fireball had dipped downward just a moment ago. There was a good chance such a motion indicated a sudden, sharp slope in the path. Moreover, it was likely not the sort of thing you wanted to basically sprint over as you tried to keep up with someone whose legs were three times the length of your own.

Harry hung in the air for a moment, his legs pedalling comically as they struggled to push off a surface that was no longer there. Then Harry realized what had happened and - as dictated by the laws of cartoon physics - plummeted downward just a moment after the revelation hit.  
Slamming into the rocky slope was about as much fun as your think it would be. He tumbled arse-over-teakettle for a door distance before slamming into something and grinding to a stop.

"Oh… thank God," Harry moaned as he struggled to regain his bearings. It was a true testament to how disoriented he was that it took several seconds to realize he was surrounded by leaves. The leaves… were attached to branches, and the branches were attached to bigger branches!

He had been captured by a bush.

Harry stared at his botanical assailant, fixing his unwavering gaze on it lest it take advantage of his inattention. The bush stared back. There was a hungry look on its leaves as it studied him with its beady little bush eyes.

He couldn't actually see the bush-eyes, mind you. He knew they were there, though, hidden amongst the leaves. They always hid the eyes. They hid them and waited patiently, eagerly awaiting the day they would reveal themselves as the killers they were.

Suddenly Harry had the perfect plan, the ideal course of action to avoid becoming fertilizer for the botanical bastard.

" **JESUS CHRIST!** " Harry screamed, hurtling himself away with all the power his skinny legs could muster.

This, of course, resulted in him launching himself out across the slope at high speed. He bounced down the hill a bit, then slammed straight into something that was either a very large rock or a very small boulder. Either way, it stopped him and it wasn't a bush. That made it the ideal savior, even if it did drive the wind straight out of his lungs.

Worth it.

"Thank you, rock. I love you," Harry gasped out. With a faint groan he managed to peel himself away from the stone and continue on his way.

A short distance from the bottom of the slope, the fog suddenly thinned. It gave him a clear view of a beach covered in white sand and, more importantly, a large bush at the end of the slope with a pair of leggings sticking out the top and kicking feebly.

Harry slid to a stop, staring at the scene before him in wide-eyed horror.

It was quickly becoming clear that the bushes here were even worse than most. He had only just escaped one of the vile plants, only to discover a **second** plant eating a **second** student! The poor bastard was fighting valiantly against the shrub's lethal wooden embrace, but it was clearly a losing battle. His panicked movements were only driving him further down its greenery gullet.

There were quite a few students gathered around to watch, but not one of them was helping the poor kid. Harry couldn't really blame them. No sane person would voluntarily get within snatching range of a carnivorous bush. What he didn't understand was the small clusters of students that were laughing and pointing, treating the whole thing like some sort of sick joke. Staying away to protect yourself was something he could understand, even if he couldn't respect it, but to watch and laugh as someone was eaten was just sick!

He had to help. He **had** to, but it meant possibly subjecting himself to the bush's blasted branches. It would be dicey, but he couldn't just leave the kid to die.

Suddenly, Harry had a brilliant plan! It was a perfect idea, the ideal solution for the situation. That made two brilliant ideas today and counting! Maybe he should open a brilliant idea school in his time off from forensicing.

Harry frowned in confusion. Wait, forensicing? Where the hell did that come from? Was it even a word?

Shaking off the momentary distraction, The future expert forensicer implemented his brilliant anti-student-eating-bush strategy into action.

Harry turned and sprinted a short distance back up the slope. Once he decided he had gone far enough he whirled, twisting around and hoofing it as hard and fast as his legs could carry him. Considering how much time he'd spent running from Big Douche, that was pretty quick. Once he put the pedal down he was rushing at a breakneck speed in no time, the slope aiding him.

At the last moment, Harry launched himself into the air and curled up, effectively becoming a human cannonball. With his mighty (sort of) attack, he delivered flying justice unto his bushy nemesis. Smiting the foul beast, he freed his fellow student from its wooden grip.

In other words, he bodyslammed the shrubbery really fucking hard, sending both himself and the stuck student flying out of it. They both slammed down onto the white sand, gasping and trying to recover the breath Harry's attack had stolen from them.

"Th- thanks," the other student said weakly. "I- I think…"

"The roots of evil have received divine judgement, having been punished with righteous fury. Any cause is true, so long as it strikes down the wicked," Harry declared.

The boy gave him an uncertain, confused look.

"No problem. It had it coming," Harry translated.

The comment had the effect of reducing the confusion on the boy's face, but significantly increasing the uncertainty. "Okay… Uh, I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Harry Potter. Hi," Harry said, shaking the offered hand.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Neville's slightly concerned look was replace with one of great interest. "Harry Potter? You mean, like, the Harry Potter that got rid of Tom Riddle?"

"I think so? I mean, is there a lot of Harry Potters that **didn't** do that?" Harry asked curiously. "And I'm pretty sure I didn't get rid of him. I killed him. I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure there's a difference there."

"What do you mean?"  
Harry shrugged. "Well, saying I 'got rid of him' kind of means he's just not around, right? That means he could be lurking in the shadows somewhere, just waiting for his chance. But I killed him. Killed him dead. That means he's gone for good. Plus, I'm pretty sure killing some evil jerk is worth more street cred than just getting rid of them. That's what I hear, anyway."

"It is. It's worth a **lot** more," Neville agreed. Looking at Harry eagerly, he continued, "How'd you do it?"

Harry looked around, scanning the beach carefully. He gave the definite sense of someone checking to make sure no one else could hear the great secret he was about to utter. Seemingly satisfied, he sidled up to Neville and whispered, "I fired a laser out of my head."

The other boy stared at him incredulously for a moment, then said, "...wut?"

"A laser. From my head," Harry repeated. Tilting his head to catch what little moonlight made it through the thinned fog, he lifted his bangs to display his scar. "That's where I got the scar. I blasted him with a head-laser, but I wasn't careful enough and I burned myself too. Head-lasers are hard to handle and I was just a baby, so I'm not too embarrassed about it."

"You're kidding, right? That's pretty stupid, even for a weird magic… thing."

"Phenomenon. You're looking for the word phenomenon."

"Right. That one."

Harry managed to hold his serious expression for another second, then started giggling. "Of course I'm kidding. I was just a little baby. How would I know what happened? I didn't even know it happened at all until a few weeks ago. I mean, do you remember things from when you were one?"

"I guess not. Too bad. I know at least a couple of people that could use a head-lasering," Neville said with a clearly disappointed look on his face. "What's with the story, then? The head-laser thing?"

"It's more fun than saying, 'How would I know?' every time someone asks me. I figure I'll just tell everyone about the head-lasering, or maybe change my story now and then to see if anyone notices."

Their conversation was at that point interrupted by Hagrid loudly announcing they were about to get their first view of Hogwarts. The giant man lifted one hand and swept it aside. As if by magic (hur hur), the fog suddenly split and rolled aside, forming a wide corridor of clear air.

Harry made a mental note to ask if Hagrid had somehow arranged the fog specifically to do that. If he had almost been eaten by a bush so his large friend could look cool, he wasn't going to be happy.

The floor of the corridor shone in the night like a plane of polished obsidian. Harry supposed it was the surface of a lake or somesuch, but it was so dark and motionlessly smooth that it looked like black glass. It made him somewhat uneasy, because he couldn't help but imagine that creatures like the Goo hailed from a dark void that looked very similar. The small blobs of mist still clinging to it floated around like vaporous ghosts, making it that much more eerie.

In the distance, situated high up on a tall bluff, laid the magic castle herself.

Harry assumed it was Hogwarts, at least, because he couldn't imagine that there would be all that many castles out here. He wasn't exactly 100% sure, since she looked absolutely nothing like what he'd imagine a magic castle to be. The delicate, spindly towers he'd seen in his mind's eye were thick and rugged. The parapets and gates were pretty hard to see from the beach, but they looked far more functional than decorative. The whole thing was made from large blocks of dark stone, and looked like it could probably take a direct hit from a meteor and come out intact.

"Wow…" Harry said. "That's kind of cool. Not really what I expected, though…"

Hagrid chuckled. "She's quite the gaff, isn't she? Hogwarts housed our children, most valuable secrets and a large portion of our knowledge during a time when the magical world was in even more turmoil than the mundane. She was built to last, lad."

"Why would that matter? Couldn't someone just blast it with magic?"

Once again, Hagrid laughed. Patting Harry on the head, he replied, "Even a dosshouse is better than the open sky, Harry. When both sides are tossing the same spells, he who has the thicker walls wins. Even a small advantage as such can tip the scales. You'd do well to remember that."

"I guess. It still seems kind of silly, though," Harry said uncertainty.

"That nasty munter you so kindly rid the world of, do you think his band of barmy fools were stronger than anyone else?"

Frowning, Harry considered the question. "I guess so. They hurt a bunch of people, right? They had to be stronger, or how else could they do that?"

The answer came not from Hagrid, but an altogether unexpected source.

"They were afraid," Neville said, his jaw tightening. "No one fought back because they were afraid. A lot of people got hurt because of that. If people weren't such cowards, there would have been a lot less people getting hurt. That's what Gran says."

"Augusta is quite right, Mr. Longbottom," Hagrid said softly. It may have been Harry's imagination, but there seemed to be the slightest but of pity in his tone. "A small advantage can make all the difference, lads. Such things as fear lack power in both physical and magical senses. Despite that lack of 'true' power, they can vastly change a man's abilities for the better or worse. I once watched a lovely lass lay out a troll with a single punch, all because her child was threatened."

Harry wasn't exactly sure, but from Neville's disbelieving look it was probably safe to assume that was an impressive feat.

"Now then, enough jawing. The gaffer'll go spare if we're any later than we already are. Everyone, into the boats!"

Harry looked up and down the beach in confusion. "Hagrid, what boats?"

"You're a little young yet to be doing anything that leaves you blind, Harry. The boats," Hagrid repeated, gesturing.

Harry looked incredulously at the collection of what he had assumed to be oversized washbasins laying at the water's edge. They looked about the size to wash Hagrid's suits, but it was pretty easy to see why they had been discarded. The would was both rotting and splintering, while the metal bands that held them together covered in corrosion. A few bands had been eaten thorough entirely, leaving them hanging sadly with their ends trailing in the water.

Harry was a little worried that just looking at them would give him a case of tetanus.

"You hid boats behind the nasty basins? Are they invisible? I know I'm not an expert, but making boats invisible seems like a waste of magic, Hagrid."

"Those **are** the boats, Harry. There's no need to look at them like you would a dodgy loo. Those fine conveyances have been ferrying chavi across the Black Lake since the final stone of Hogwarts was laid."

Continuing to study the "fine conveyances," Harry asked, "And how long ago was that?"

"Well, no one's exactly sure at this point, but it's widely agreed that it was sometime in the ninth century."

Still eyeing the boats dubiously, Harry muttered. "Fine. But if I die, I'm so haunting you. And Neville's riding with me, so if I die, he dies. Then we'll haunt you together. You'll be double-haunted."

Ignoring the other boy's protests, Harry spun and dragged him down into the nearest boat. Luckily for Neville, he managed to plant himself in one of the two spots not completely covered in splinters. The second splinter-free spot was already occupied though, leaving Harry to plop down on a hellish landscape of wooden needles. The girl sitting across from him gave him a mildly amused look as he released an undignified squeak and frantically tried to shift his weight in a way that spared his ass.

He failed.

With a sour expression, Harry watched as Hagrid plopped into the next boat over. It sank noticeably as it pulled away from the beach, but remained buoyant. Hagrid didn't seem to notice how dangerously close to sinking his boat was any more than he did the splinters that were presumably gouging him in the rear.

"If it's any consolation, if be happy to make it a triple-haunting," the girl suddenly offered. She had her body half twisted around so she could watch the water bob just a few centimeter below the side of their boat. "I can't say I'm too keen on dying in general, but I'm sure there's better ways than drowning…"

"Actually, is supposed to be pretty peaceful. The first lungful of water is the hard part. Besides, you could probably tread water long enough to go into shock from the cold. Then you'd barely notice," Harry reassured(?) her.

Both of his boatmates started at him in disbelief.

"What? They had it on the Nature Channel. My neighbor watches it a lot."

"That's… quite morbid. Is he always like this?" she asked, turning to give Neville a curious look.

Neville glanced to the side at Harry, as if trying to evaluate the threat that a rather dangerous and potentially hungry predator might pose. "I… really don't know. I met him five minutes ago."

"I might be. If I am, it's probably because my parents were brutally murdered right in front of me."

Their companion gave him a shocked and horrified look. It only got worse when Neville asked, "Are you sure it wasn't because you murdered someone when you were a little kid?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I didn't murder him, it was self defence," Harry declared. The statement was immediately followed by a pause and a thoughtful look. "I think. I mean, how could a baby murder someone?"

The girl stared at them for a moment, giving them a puzzled and amused frown. Suddenly her face lit up as understanding hit her. "Oh, you're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Nope," Harry immediately replied. Pointing at Neville, he announced, "That's Harry Potter. I'm just the infamous baby-murderer."

There was a brief pause.

"Uh, I don't mean i killed a baby. That'd be sick. I mean I murdered people **as** a baby. Thought I should clarify that."

"How do you know you didn't kill a baby?"

"I think if remember killing a baby, Neville. I don't think that's the kind of thing you forget."

"You didn't remember the first guy you killed,"Neville pointed out.

Harry froze, one finger pointing at Neville and mouth half-open to deliver what was no doubt a masterful retort. Then, as what the other wizard had said trickled through his brain, he slowly lowered his hand.

"Huh. Good point."

"Wait, Neville? He was supposedly Harry Potter. Not that I believed you for one moment, of course, but you could at least be consistent in your lies for more than thirty seconds."

The boat sloshed along, with not a spoken word to break the sound of the water passing by.

Finally the witch got impatient enough to demand, "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Harry raised a hand to silence her. "Hang on. I'm trying to remember if I've killed any babies," Harry muttered. "It's okay if I was a baby too, right? Or not any worse than killing someone that wasn't a baby?"

"Seems reasonable."

"No it does not! Honestly **nothing** about **either** of you seems reasonable," the girl disagreed. "Let's just forget about the dead babies, okay?"

"No problem. I'm an expert at that, I guess," Harry declared, causing Neville to snicker.

"I'm Hermione Granger," the witch declared, clearly having no intention of acknowledging the comment. "Obviously **you** are Harry Potter and **you** are Neville something. I'd say I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm a bit undecided on that at the moment.

There was no response. Harry continued starting at the bottom of the boat with a frown, and Neville continued starting at Harry.

"Harry, please stop trying to figure out if you've committed infanticide. And you, you please stop waiting to see if Harry figured out if he murdered a baby."

"Fine. But when dead babies start showing up, just remember: you could have stopped it, but you didn't."

"Dead babies are **not** going to start turning up. You've only actually killed one person that we know of, and he almost certainly deserved it. Now, can we please stop talking about murdering babies!"

There was a faint gasp from behind her. Twitching slightly, Hermione slowly turned to look at the boat drifting by behind them. The four first-year witches in it stared back at her in shock.

Sighing as she settled back into her seat, Hermione grumbled,, "Wonderful. I suppose you both think that's quite funny…"

"A little," Neville admitted.

Giggling, Harry claimed, "Of course not."

"Yes, very funny. While we're on the subject of brutally murdering people, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Now-"

Before Harry could say a word, Neville broke in and blurted out, "He fired a laser out of his head!"

Hermione looked at him in disbelief for a long moment, then slowly turned her skeptical and suspicious gaze towards the wizard in question.

Nodding in confirmation, Harry agreed, "I totally did. I head-lasered him into next week. It was one of the most awesome head-laserings in the history of head-lasering."

"You'll have to forgive me if I find that a bit hard to believe.

"Oh, it's true," Harry insisted. He raised his bangs and displayed his forehead. "How do you think I got the scar?"

Examining the scar, Hermione scoffed. "There's about a million things that could cause a scar, Harry," she pointed out. Then she leaned forward to examine the mark in the moonlight. "Even if it is clearly some kind of burn scar. A… very localized burn scar in very clear, straight lines."

"Head-lasering is hard, and Harry was just a baby. He was lucky he just got burned a little."

Hermione frowned as she continued examining the scar intensely. "I understand that magic provides for many possibilities that the muggle world-"

"Nearly infinite possibilities," Harry corrected.

"Fine. That. Regardless, I refuse to believe that people shoot lasers out of their foreheads."

Neville gave her a puzzled frown. "Why? Weird stuff like that happens all the time. A broken window smothered my Uncle Algie under 12,397 liters of grape gelatin last year. That's a lot stranger than something like a head-laser, right?"

"Okay, there's no way I'm believing something that stupid. Besides, you don't seem all that sad, considering a relative died."

Neville shrugged. "I didn't like him very much."  
"I still-"

"A window tried to **eat** me," Harry suddenly announced. "It tried to eat me and so did a plant."

Hermione turned back to him, an annoyed denial on her lips, but stopped when she registered the shell-shocked look on his face. It was a look she'd seen on her father more than a few times, usually when he talked about his stint as a navy doctor.

"How did that happen? That's pretty weird thing for a broken window to do, even if it was a really cheap one."

Harry shuddered and replied, "There was this thing called a Cauldron Ca-"

"A **Cauldron Cake**!?" Neville gasped. "You didn't eat it, did you?"

"What!? No! **Hell** no!" Harry said vehemently. "Are you kidding? I mean, I **almost** did, but I didn't mean to!"

"Makes sense. You'd still be throwing up if you did."

"Okay, excuse me, but what in the world are you guys talking about? What's a Cauldron Cake, and why would you eat anything that makes you throw up for hours!?" Hermione demanded.

Neville, now looking almost as shaken as Harry, answered, "No one really knows. Supposedly it's a curse put on all wizarding kids. Sometimes, when you buy a bunch of snacks, one just kind of shows up. If you open the package, it tries to trick you into eating it. That's not a good thing to do."

"It burned me when I tried to take it out of the package," Harry said, holding up his hand. One fingertip was a putrid green, while the other was a dark gray with pink zig-zags. "Then I kind of spaced out, but the girls stuck their noses in my ears. I was kind of mad, but then I realized I was holding the cake almost to my mouth. I freaked and threw it, it hit the window and there was a lot of really nasty colors. Then the window turned into an eldritch horror from beyond the far reaches of the mortal mind."

"Oh, have your read Lovecraft?"Hermione asked excitedly. "He has such a fascinating turn of phrase, doesn't he?

Harry shook his head. "No, I haven't. I just looked at it, and I **knew**."

"...oh."

The rest of the trip across the lake passed quietly, aside from a minor incident with a giant squid that left Hermione with wet robes. The beast had popped up beside them suddenly, obviously curious about the boats. Its appearance startled Hermione bad enough to cause her to launch herself to the other side of the boat, rocking it violently.

("I think I just peed myself.")

("Don't worry, Hermione. You probably just splashed water in the boat when you jumped.")

("...yes. Yes, that's exactly what happened. Definitely.")

They fared better than the trio that somehow managed to fall out of their boat, at least. The three first-years ended up being hauled to the landing by creatures Hagrid referred to as "The Lifeguards." All that could be seen of the things was the set of slimy tentacles that hoisted the children high in the air as they bobbed toward the rest of the students. The pair of girls fought the whole way, kicking and screaming, but only managed to smear the Lifeguard's slime all over their bodies.

("Tentacles. That is so wrong, but I'm not exactly sure why.")

("At least they have all their clothes on…")

The young wizard, on the other hand, clearly thought the ride was great. He even held his hands up and recovered a quintuple high-five (high-tentacle?) after being placed gently on the dock. The girls, on the other hand, had been unceremoniously dumped to the dock and were still getting up even as he was waving goodbye to the lifeguards.

After climbing a flight of stairs, the new students suddenly found themselves in a large, nicely decorated room. There, waiting for them, was an older woman who-

"-looks like she could eat iron and shit screws..." Hermione whispered. Seeing the shocked looks she received, she huffed, "What? That's what Dad would say."

The witch swept her gaze across them silently, then nodded in satisfaction. "Very good, Hagrid. You may return to your other duties. That great beast of yours has been barking for an hour. You'd best take care of it."

"Blasted turbo weasels are probably trying to break out of the forest again," Hagrid muttered. "Smart little buggers. Don't know how the little things keep finding a way around the wards..."

"Well you'd best handle it. We can't have those things getting loose in the school. Not after what happened last time. I'll take it from here."

Hagrid quickly left, muttering something under his breath about, "Bloody six-legged bastards."

"I am Professor McGonagall," the witch announced. "Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. This is my Familiar, Ash."

There was a faint squeak from beside Harry. A hand wrapped around his am with surprising strength and hauled him around, yanking him to stand between Hermione and the large cat that slunk out from behind McGonagall. It was sleek and powerful looking. Its coat was sleek and colored a dark, ash grey with smudges of sooty black. It moved almost completely silently, aside from the soft click-clicking sound it made every other step.

He wasn't sure exactly what the big deal was. He was pretty sure that Tank or Lady were a lot more dangerous than Ash. Then again, maybe Hermione simply hadn't met some of the more "colorful" familiars. If the was reacting to a big cat this bad, she was probably in for a rough year.

Still, Ash **was** pretty cool, even if he wasn't made of water like Lady or pointy bits like Tank. Harry had never seen a big cat like that up close, let alone one with a metal paw.

"To answer the question I am no doubt about to be asked: yes, that is his real paw. There was a minor… incident… involving a dark creature when we were young. His original paw went bad, and we were forced to cut it off. As healing magic proved unable to fix it, we were forced to resort to a golem graft."

A faint murmur ran through the crowd of children as they made appropriately impressed and awed noises.

"Now then, please follow me so that we may commence the sorting. Oh, and Ms. Granger?"

Hermione nervously peeked out from behind Harry, her eyes never leaving the large cat. "Y- yes professor?"

"It's nails, dear. Iron and nails," McGonagall stated. "Screws are anything but elegant, and being compared to one is very unflattering."

The rest of the first-years looked at Hermione in confusion as she slowly reddened.

Harry could swear there was a faint smile on the professor's lips as she turned and threw the doors open, marching forward.

The Great Hall was… well… it was very appropriately named, that was for sure. Harry was pretty certain he'd never seen such a large room, not even on the telly. It was pretty impressive, and that wasn't even counting the floating candles or the roof that was showing a beautiful view of the night sky.

Massive tables ran down the hall. There was four of them, each half-filled with students. Down at one end Harry spotted Fred and George. They were waving to him enthusiastically, assuming you considered flailing their arms, howling and whistling catcalls at him counted as such. Their familiars were a little harder to spot as they marched back and forth on the table, assembling something that looked suspiciously like a catapult made of silverware.

"What is wrong with those idiots?" Hermine grumbled. "I'd be embarrassed to even know them. What kind of person would even associate with morons like that?"

"Harry! Harry-Harry-Harry! Look over here, Harry! Look over he~re! Hi Harry!" Fred screamed. He was now standing on the table, jumping up and down and waving both arms.

From somewhere behind him someone screamed, "We love you Harry!" It wasn't really hard to figure out who.

Hermione and Neville slowly turned to look at Harry.

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley. I am sure Mr. Potter is quite grateful for your enthusiastic greeting. However, we do have the Sorting to get through, and I will be quite displeased if you continue to disrupt it," McGonnagal said, fixing them with a moderately annoyed look.

Both twins immediately went silent, returning to their seats so fast they may as well have teleported.

"Now then, this is the Sorting Hat. It is a powerful relic from times long past. It will now sort you into your appropriate houses," McGonagall declared, gesturing to a dirty and worn hat sitting on a stool. "Hat, if you would be so kind?"

The first-years watched the Sorting hat expectantly.

Nothing happened.

"Hat?"

Nothing happened.

"Hat, are you listening?"

The hat shuddered slightly, then rolled over onto one side. The faint sound of snoring came from it.

McGonagall twitched. Leaning forward, she slowly brought the tip of her wand into position right beside the snoozing hat. With a flick, she whispered, " _Disrumpam_."

A sound like a gunshot, only a hundred times as loud, rocked the hall. It was so powerful that it left Harry's ears ringing, despite being several meters away from the source. The hat let out a shrill shriek, like that of a little girl, and tumbled off the stool. There was a soft thump as it hit the stone floor.

"The **hell** , woman!? What is wrong with you!?" the Hat demanded. "I don't even have eardrums and you nearly blew them out! I… wait a moment. Where in the name of the First Tailor am I?"

McGonagall sighed. "You're in the Great Hall, Hat. Exactly where you're supposed to be."

"The Great Hall? Why the bloody blazes would you bring me to the… Oh, Sorting time, is it?"

"An excellent observation," McGonagall replied drolly.

"There's no reason to get sarcastic about it, woman. You need to learn to respect your elders. Never were good at that, were you? But I'm not **just** your elder! No, I was a fine piece of headwear while you were still a little swimmer in the sack of your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-"

McGonagall gave the hat a fierce poke with the tip of her wand. " **Hat**. The Sorting, if you would?"

"Oh, yes, yes. That. Do you think we could perhaps do it tomorrow? This really isn't a good time."

" **Not a good time**?" McGonagall snapped. "You are the Sorting Hat. You exist for the sole purpose of performing the Sorting, and nothing else. How could it possibly not be a good time?"

"Well, I was having this wonderful dream, y'see. I was in a high-end clothier's with a pair of twin berets. It was… well. I'm certain I don't have to tell you what those berets are like. There was a bit of cloth-on-cloth action, if you know what I mean."

McGonagall glared at the Sorting Hat so hard that Harry was a little surprised it didn't burst into flames. The hat obviously felt the heat, though, because he instantly straightened up.

"What are you waiting for, woman? Put me on the stool so we can get this over with," the Sorting Hat ordered, prompting McGonagall to do exactly that. "Alright, which one of you little bastards is first, eh?"

McGonagall cleared her throat and hissed, "Hat. The song."

"Eh?"

"The **song** , Hat. You're supposed to begin the year with a song."

The hat shuddered. "Bloody hell, woman. Is that really necessary?"

"It is tradition," McGonagall stated. She tugged at her sleeve, pulling the cuff up slightly. Harry just barely caught a glimpse of deep, white scars running around her wrist and up her arm.

"Fine, fine! There's no need for threats, is there?" the hat grumbled. Straightening, he began to sing.

* * *

 _Now put on the hat, you little brat,_

 _I've got secrets worth knowing._

 _Move yourself so I can get on my shelf,_

 _Now please, let's get going._

 _Gryffindors are brave, they love a close shave._

 _The dumbasses make a great shield._

 _Slytherins are sly, they cheat, plot and lie._

 _I suggest you keep your little eyes peeled._

 _Hufflepuffs are dicks, and all love their cliques.,_

 _Poor little brats, pathetic and meek.._

 _Ravenclaws are bores, their words met with snores._

 _Self-righteous and proud, each one is a geek._

 _Now you've been sassed, so put me on fast._

 _Please let's just get this show on the road._

 _That dream's not real clean, if you know what I mean,_

 _And my stiff brim's set to explode._

 _I'll peek through your brain, again and again._

 _Until my poor noggin spoils and rots._

 _It's such a chore, it's one I abhor._

' _cuz you're all too young for any fun thoughts._

 _So I'll sort you real good, just like i should,_

' _cuz someone gave that nutter a wand._

 _Let's do this shit, so I'm done with it._

 _I'm practically begging you, I must be donned._

 _I'll do my best, so now I suggest_

 _let's do this crap nice and quick._

 _I'm ready to go, let's put on a show!_

 _Don't just stand there holding your d-_

* * *

" **Hat!** " McGonagall snapped, interrupting the song.

"What? You wanted a damn song, I gave you a damn song," the hat said. Harry could swear there was a smug look on its brim. "Now, who's first?"

The Sorting was… well… it was kind of anticlimactic. Each student was called in turn and instructed to sit down and put on the hat. After a brief moment the hat would yell out a house name.

The only really interesting thing that happened before Harry's turn involved Hermione. Unlike the others, she sat there with the hat for nearly a minute. Watching her, Harry almost got the impression that she was arguing with it. Eventually it screamed out, "Gryffindor!" sending a clearly disgruntled Hermione marching towards the house of lions.

Finally, it was Harry's turn. Somewhat nervous, he sat down and slipped the hat on his head.

" _Alright, alright, let's do this," the hat said. "No worries, this probably won't hurt a bit. Now, let's see… Oh my."_

"Oh my? What's wrong?" Harry whispered, so quietly he could barely hear himself.

" _Nothing wrong, lad. Nothing at all. It's just… well, it's been quite a while since I met a Potter. Nearly 200 years, if I had to guess."_

"What? But I thought my dad went here. Didn't you do this for him?"

" _Well yes, of course. He was a Potter, I suppose, but he wasn't a_ _ **Potter**_ _. Quite close he was, but he was a bit lacking in some respects. Rather important ones, at that."_

"What're you talking about? What does that even mean?"

" _Sorry lad, but I'm bound by the enchantments that created me. There's nothing on Earth that can make me speak of what I see in another's head. You'll have to go find out yourself. Now, I'd best do my job before the old harpy gets impatient. Young Potter, there's only one place you could ever go, and that would be-_ **Gryffindor!** "

Harry reluctantly put down the hat, frowning as he did, and walked towards his new housemates.

The confused frown lasted right up until Fred hit him with a full-on bodyslam. The unexpected impact knocked him straight of his feet. Both of them were sent flying into the next table, sending annoyed Slytherins scrabbling away in every direction.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, Harry! I knew my loyal minion would wear gold! It's good, because you don't really have the complexion for silver. You might be able to pull off a thin chain, but you're not enough of a ponce to wear the serious bling!" Fred said excitedly, smacking the Slytherin beneath him for emphasis.

"You're… on… my… spleen…"

Fred looked down, a shocked look on his face as he noticed the boy beneath him. "I thought this floor was a bit too lumpy. Is that you, Flint?"

"S… spleen."

"Sorry, it's a bit hard to hear you when so much of your face is covered by Harrysack's ass. You may want to see someone about that, by the way. A fixation on shoving your nose up young boys' rectums can't be healthy."

"S-"

"Sweet Merlin's blue crystal balls, man! You don't have to repeat yourself. Yes, it's a spleen. Very good. That's your spleen and **this** ," Fred gave the boy a violent smack, fingers driving into his side hard. "-is your pancreas. Now you know two."

There was a long suffering sigh. "Fred, stop being an idiot and get off of him," George ordered.

Fred twisted around to look up at his brother with a confused expression. "Seriously? Brother, it's **Flint**. Who cares?"

"Not him. Harry. You're on his robes."

Fred looked down at the floor and examined the hand that was resting on the hem of the younger boy's robes. With a horrified gasp, he yanked it away. "Oh my, how dreadfully rude! I'm terribly sorry, Harrykins!"

"Sp- sp- urk!"

Flint's feeble groan cut off in a pained squeak as Fred dropped a hand on his gut and used it to leverage himself to his feet. Pausing, he looked down at the Slytherin and said, "Liver. You're welcome."

"He's gonna be pretty pissed about that once he can move again," George pointed out as he hauled Harry upright.

"Eh, we'll set him on fire or something later."

"That's probably not gonna make him less pissed."

"No, but it'll be funny."

"Hmm. Okay, I'll give you that one."

The twins dragged (quite literally) Harry back to the Gryffindor table, hauling him along toward one end.

Like the other tables, theirs was far from full. It looked like well over half the seats were empty. Unlike the other tables, where empty seats were scattered along the length, the vast majority of their house was clustered towards one end. The other side was almost completely empty. It's only occupants were a smattering of brave souls, King, and-

"Hermione?" Harry said in surprise as he was set down in the seat across from her. He'd be the first to admit her barely knew her, but she didn't seem like the sort to hang out with Fred and George. "What're you doing here?"

In answer, Hermione raised an arm. To Harry's surprise, thick bands of water wound their way back and forth across the limb.

"Your **friends** there dragged me over and told little Ms. Moisture to keep me here. She gets pretty uncooperative if I try to get up," Hermione explained. "On an unrelated note, does anyone know where I can get some quick-set cement? There's no particular reason. I'm just curious."

George chuckled and gave her a pat on the head, earning an annoyed growl in return. Quickly jerking his hand back, he said, "Now, now. It's more efficient this way. After all, Harry's friends are our friends, whether they want to be or not."

"Besides, we tried gelatin in our first year. Doesn't do much. She just jumps to another bit of liquid nearby," Fred declared. "We got a pretty hot gelatin chick statue, though, so that was cool."

"You should be grateful. Our firstie adoption initiative is apparently in full swing this year, and you were on the shortlist."

Fred gasped and clasped his hands beneath his chin. Eyes sparkling, he asked, "George. George. Does that mean we can keep them, George? Can we?"

"Only if you remember to feed them this time, Fred."

A single tear trickled down Fred's cheek. "Oh, my poor, sweet firsties. How was I supposed to know they had to eat?"

Sighing, King slowly shook his head. "I am sorry about this. I am afraid my dear Lady can be quite obstinate once she gets an idea into her head, and she falls prey to negative influences quite easily."

"But what do we do about the other one, George? What if **he's** in the chosen house, too? We're out of elementals!"

George shrugged. "Actually, looks like he's coming this way all on his own."

"What, like, voluntarily?" Fred said in a tone that was equally mystified and confused.

"Yep."

"Wow. Talk about no sense of self-preservation."

Chuckling, George declared, "We all have to learn somehow, brother."

"And some lessons are more painful than others," King added mournfully, shaking his head. "Much, much more painful."

Slowing to a stop behind the empty chair next to Harry, Neville looked up and down the table. Hesitantly, he asked, "Um… is it okay if I sit-"

That was as far as he got before Fred vaulted the table and clapped his hands down on Neville's shoulders. Screaming, "Ha! Got you!" he shoved Neville down into the seat. "The trap is sprung!"

Hermione gave the dazed and very confused boy a pitying look. "You poor fool," she whispered sadly.

"You know what? Maybe I should sit somewhere else. I'm just going to… uh… why can't I stand up?" Looking down in confusion, Neville observed the thick ropes of water that were quickly lashing him to the chair. "Oh. That explains it."

Upending his cup, Fred said, "Ooh, I was wondering where that went. Good job, Bubbles!"

What happened next was pretty much what you'd expect. Dumbledore made a speech, the twins pointed out that he was batshit crazy, and Hermione scolded them for it. Honestly, it would be an absolute waste of words to go into it in detail, which is exactly the sort of thing we're trying to avoid in this timeline. So, use your imagination and fill in whatever you want here. Hell, feel free to picture Dumbles dancing around on the staff table, half naked and with tassels affixed to his nipples.

You sick bastard.

There was a bit of a fuss when the headmaster dramatically introduced Harry, but not as much as you'd think. His status as The-Boy-Who-Killed-That-Asshole earned him some half-hearted clapping from the students, a more enthusiastic greeting from the staff, and very enthusiastic cheering from Flitwick and Hagrid.

Harry was pretty sure Hagrid was cheering, at least. It was kind of hard to tell, since it was pretty hard to even picture the man making such a spectacle of himself. It was probably as close as he could get and retain his dignity.

The subdued ovation was still enough to make Harry blush bright red, leaving him quite glad that the Pussy-Who-Got-Offed-By-A-Baby hadn't been some sort of horrible supervillain.

"You've gotta admit, it was still pretty impressive."

"Yeah. No one clapped for us," Fred stated. "Actually, they're more likely to cross to the other side of the hallway these days. Buncha hallway-crossing pussies."

"I suppose that is what happens when you decide to give the entirety of the castle explosive diarrhea ," King muttered.

Harry, Hermione and Neville all turned their horrified gazes toward the twins.

"Yeah, people took the Brown Geyser Incident pretty personally," George said with a shrug. "Except Lee, of course. He thought blasting a hole through his knickers was hilarious for some reason. Sometimes I wonder about that guy."

Fred giggled. "Well, it was pretty personal. As personal as brushing a wombat."

"Fred, what the hell does… You know what? You're right. It was definitely as personal as brushing a wombat."

George's brother fixed him with a disapproving look. "Brushing a wombat? George, you're a sick bastard, you know that?"

"That's disgusting! Why would you even do that?" Hermione demanded.

"So, our lordship here tends to bust things up when he gets distracted," George said, blatantly ignoring Fred's outraged exclamation.

He gestured across the table. Hermione followed his gaze, her eyes widening as she observed the growing pile of crumpled silverware in front of King. Even as she watched, the young wizard scowled as another fork warped and bent in his grip.

"He kept losing all kinds of points, so it pissed a lot of our housemates off. No one believed he was doing it on accident. Y'know, on account of the fact that all kinds of people can crush steel just to annoy everyone else," George explained.

King looked down at the table, clearly upset. His shame clearly forced him to resign himself to his fate, as he reluctantly said, "Lady. If you would?"

The bands of water holding Hermione and Neville instantly vanished. The liquid rushed across the floor, producing a sound like a babbling brook. It quickly wound up King's legs and quickly reformed, becoming a very feminine elemental sitting neatly in his lap.

With very obvious joy, Lady speared a hunk of meat with one sharpened finger and held it up to her master's mouth. With equally obvious reluctance, King allowed her to feed him.

"Dude, we'd go through a lot less forks if you just gave up and let her do that to begin with," George said, chuckling.

King turned to glare at him, but was forced to abort when a piece of beef was shoved into his mouth. Quickly swallowing, he replied, "Using silverware is as simplistic a task as one could find. I will master it."

"What the hell are you made of?" Hermione demanded, an awed look on her face. Across from her, Neville was vainly trying to straighten out a fork.

-One explanation that would be a waste of text later-

"Hold on a second. You're saying that people do **that** with their Familiars?" Hermione demanded.

"Not just Familiars," Fred giggled.

"And not at all, according to 'polite society' types," George added.

 _If you ever want to do the nasty with something else, you better be careful. It can be pretty fucking dangerous…_

At the hiss, the small group of students turned. Neville in particular whipped his head around, then froze when he caught sight of the snake neatly coiled up in the formerly empty seat beside him.

 _Yo. Butterball. You wanna help a snake out and pass the chicken? I'm into the dark meat, if you know what I mean,_ the Adder hissed, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry still wasn't sure how he did that. It shouldn't be possible, given his lack of eyebrows, and no one else ever seemed to notice it. He could only assume something about his ability to talk to snakes also made their expressions clear to him.

"S- snake…" Neville stuttered.

 _I'll take 'things that are pretty fucking obvious' for $400, Alex. Oh, sorry, but your answer has to be in the form of a question. Where the hell do you find these people?_

"Relax, man. That's Harry's snake. He won't bite you," George said, then paused. "Uh, he won't bite him, right?"

 _Damn right. I'm trying to watch my cholesterol._

"Wait a sec, didn't Mr. Slither disappear like, six hours ago? On the train?" Fred asked with wide eyes. "Can Mr. Slither slither anywhere? Does he slither through time? Has he been waiting here for us the **whole time**?"

"Sometimes I seriously wonder about you, Fred. Like, how do you breathe without swallowing your own tongue?" George muttered.

"I don't know. It's a gift, I guess. I'm just special like that."

"You're special alright. Damned if I know why, but obviously someone much have carried him here. Right, Harry?"

The Adder gave George a haunted look and hissed, _Trust me, man, you don't even want to know. Just… don't ask, okay?_

Harry shrugged, but couldn't help but give the Adder a curious look. "I dunno, George. He just kind disappears and shows up wherever I am later. Maybe he does slither through time."

 _Kid, if I could slither through time I'd slither right back to four hours ago. It was an interesting trip, and by 'interesting' I mean 'completely fucked up in ways your little brain can't even comprehend,'_ the Adder declared. _Unfortunately the words 'fucked' and 'up' are a little too literal there._

Fighting the urge to groan, Harry stood and circled Neville. Holding out one hand, he allowed the snake to slither up his arm and around his neck.

The young wizard instantly made a disgusted face. "Ugh, you're all slimy and dirty! Where the heck have you been?"

 _I'm pretty sure I just told you not to ask. I've never felt so dirty in my life, and I get around by wiggling through the dirt. You're giving me a bath ASAP. I'd ask you to toss me into the water chick right now, but being inside her will probably trigger my PTSD. I'm pretty sure that's a thing I have now._

"You are **definitely** getting a bath later."

 _Please, by the golden scales of the fork-tongued god, yes. Use battery acid and a belt sander if you can find them._

"Is that an adder?"

Harry jumped at the sudden question. He'd been so busy listening to the Adder that he hadn't noticed Hermione leaning across the table until she spoke. The witch was about as close to them as she could manage, looking at the snake in fascination. "Is he yours?"

"Uh… sort of. He's not a pet or anything. He's my friend."

Hermione nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "He has very nice scales. He must be quite pretty when he's not all dirty like that."

 _Ooh, I like this chick. You should spend more time with her. She has excellent taste._

"Is it alright if I hold him? Later when he's not all covered in sticky mud, of course."

Harry glanced down at the snake, who nodded.

Hermione gave the serpent a shocked look and demanded, "Did he just nod? Did that snake seriously just answer a question?:

"That's generally what happens when you move your head up and down, my little firstie," Fred said. His tone made it quite clear he thought she was acting like a moron.

"That's… really weird."

"Just roll with it," George suggested. "C'mon, we wanna hurry up and eat so we can get up to the party."

"Party? What party?"

George shrugged. "The party up in the tower, of course. We always do it right before the Summoning. It's a sacred tradition that stretches back centuries."

"But… I thought we were supposed to be spending the night in quiet contemplation. That's what the headmaster said. He said our minds should be clear for the Summoning tomorrow," Hermione protested.

The comment caused King to sigh and earned her a and a pair of grins from the twins.

"We're Gryffindors. We contemplate with loud music and games, and we clear our minds with Butterbeer," George said happily. "Lots of Butterbeer."

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

If you're somehow not quite clear on what happened to the Adder, here's a hint:

He's not going to be hitting on anymore nagas in the near future.

So, yeah, five chapters in and I've managed to write something more fucked up than anything in Classic. Good job, me. Sometimes I wonder if I should ban myself from writing.

I think the difference in Neville and Hermione's personalities comes through a lot clearer and earlier this time around.

Other than that, I don't really have a whole lot to say about this chapter…

The next two chapters are going to be pretty similar to what they were in Classic. That, unfortunately, means they have a fair bit of regurgitated material. I tried to add enough new stuff and remove enough old stuff to keep it interesting if you read the first incarnation, but there's only so much to be done. They were among the very few chapters that had a fair amount of vital information, so a lot of it is fairly important.

They were originally going to be compacted into one chapter, but there's a bit too much to them to do that without it becoming a massive infodump.

So, next up we have "A Familiar Summoning?" and "Interviews With Monster Girls (And Special Guest Star Sparkles!)"

I guarantee that they probably have 100% less snake violation than this chapter had.

Probably.


	6. A Familiar Summoning?

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Six

"A Familiar Summoning?"

AKA

"Behold the Powar of (CTRL) + C, (CTRL) + V!"

* * *

If there was one word that could describe the Summoning, that word would be "boring as fuck."

Okay, so that's like five words. But the point stands.

Seeing a dog or cat or something pop out of a poof of smoke was incredible the first time. It was pretty cool the second through fifth time. Rounds six to eleven were mildly interesting, but twelve…

Well, it all sort of went downhill from there.

Of the fifty-odd first-years, precious few were paid with something that was actually interesting. These exceptions were few and far between, and certainly not worth sitting around on a stone bench all morning.

It was that little detail that pissed Hermione off.

The Summoning Chamber, buried deep beneath the castle, was incredible.

It was huge, carved straight out of the bedrock bones of the Earth, and supposedly located on the intersection of several major ley lines. Legend was that Merlin, upon deciding no wizard should ever be alone, had chosen the location for exactly that reason.

Legend also said that Merlin did this after getting piss-drunk, hitting on the barmaid and getting punched, hitting on the bar donkey and getting kicked, talking an epic piss and probably doing some pixie dust, possibly snorted straight off the pixie's back. Historians were kind of on the fence as to whether it was amazing that he could perform such incredible magic while drunk, twice-concussed and tripping out of his mind, or if the whole episode was just kind of really sad.

The chamber was huge. In the center was a massive, perfectly circular slab of stone. Deep grooves had been cut into it, forming a complex geometric pattern. Light flowed - literally **flowed** , like it was water - through the cracks in shades of deep scarlet and brilliant blue. That same light flowed up the pillars spaced evenly around the pattern, forming glowing runes despite the lack of a groove through which to flow.

Which brings us back to Hermione's griping:

"He made this **whole** thing in one night, somehow defying anything that even approaches rationality, but he couldn't make a better seat than a narrow stone bench? Seriously? My rear is going numb from sitting here! It's like the world's most cramped movie theater, only with seats worse than my school's bleachers! And don't even get me started on this table. It's barely wide enough for my breakfast."

Overall, boring as fuck is definitely the right word(s).

The student would enter the circle and their head of house would help them set up the spell. Each would then display their "offering" to their head of house. It was a symbolic thing more than anything, representing an offering of a fragment of the wizard's soul. Technically it was supposed to be your most precious belonging, but wizarding parents frequently gave their children something expensive or impressive to bring, in the hopes that it would catch a powerful Familiar's eye.

It didn't actually work like that, but people are dumb.

Finally, the professor would leave the circle, allowing their student to recite a brief incantation to finish the spell. Boom. One Summoning, hot and fresh.

It was pretty easy to see why such forms of magic had, for the most part, fallen out of favor. There was a fair degree of time and effort that went into it, and that was with the chamber itself doing the heavy lifting. Hermione shuddered to think what the spell would take without that, being the only one (aside from possibly King) who had actually looked into the Summoning Chamber and what it actually did.

There were three books in her trunk written on nothing but that very subject. By virtue of her skill with numbers and the terminology picked up from a great many fantasy novels, she understood roughly 3% of what they said. She was optimistically hoping that number would go up to 30% or so by the time she graduated. It was disappointing, but the fact that **no one** really understood it made her feel better.

All attempts to replicate the chamber had resulted in an inferior product, a spectacular explosion, the sinking of Atlantis, or some combination of the three. The circle at the Salem Academy of Spells and Sorcery (an unfortunate acronym if she ever heard one) took two hours to do what the chamber beneath Hogwarts did in fifteen minutes.

So far it hadn't sunk Atlantis, though. That was something, I guess.

Even at fifteen minutes a pop, going through all the first-years took the bulk of a day. It was a long, arduous process that they all had to be present for because tradition, and because the professors took it seriously enough to make skiving pretty hard.

Unlike poor Hermione, skipping the boring and uncomfortable parts is definitely an options for us.

So let's do that, shall we?

* * *

 **Granger, Hermione (Gryffindor)**

* * *

Energy crackled across the circle.

Someone laughed. She knew immediately that it wasn't another student. The sound had an unearthly, echoing quality to it. It was rich, deep and almost seemed to echo in her ears.

"Well, now. What have we here?" a smooth voice asked from behind her.

Hermione slowly turned around.

There was nothing there.

Blinking in confusion, she turned back just in time to see her offering, an old and worn paperback copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ , leap into the air. The book simply hung there in front of her, bobbing slightly as the pages flipped rapidly. After several seconds the book stopped paging through itself.

"Oh, this is my favorite part," the voice proclaimed as the book flipped around to face her. "'The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked goodnatured, she thought : still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt it ought to be treated with respect.' No wonder the silly girl kept her head. If her head was a bucket full of thoughts, there'd barely be a hole in it at all. The size of a small marble, perhaps?"

The book dropped lower, revealing a smile floating in the air. It wasn't attached to anything. There was no body, nor anything else of the sort. It was simply a set of grinning teeth, hovering several feet above the ground. The corners of the smile tilted up a bit more as she stared at it in shock.

Her eyes widened. "No. That's impossible."

A cat with light orange and dark orange stripes running down its body faded into view around the grin.

"My dear, the impossible is merely that which has yet to be done. All that is impossible is doomed to become naught but history. Surely a bright girl would realize this, and you must be bright. You called for me, after all."

"You- you're not real…"

"Am I not? How strange. I feel quite real to me. Then again, I suppose the unreal would feel real to something that lacks a certain quality of realness." the cat patted itself down. "Ah, well. Regardless, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. If there's one thing the Cheshire needs, it is a girl to befuddle."

"I- I knew something like this was going to happen." Hermione sighed. "We'd better get back to the stands."

"Ah, a feast awaits. You must be quite mad, inviting a flight of fancy to dinner."

Hermione sighed. "Let's just go, okay?"

"As you wish. Do you perchance have any food of the 'not real' sort? I feel it may be difficult to partake, otherwise," the cat chuckled. "And an imaginary cup of tea would certainly not go amiss."

* * *

 **Longbottom, Neville (Gryffindor)**

* * *

Neville stood in the center of the Summoning circle, his heart beating far too fast. This was it. This was his chance to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was a wizard. This was his chance to prove he was worthy of the Longbottom name. He had no expectation of getting something great. He just wanted anything, even a cockroach would do.

Of course, something awesome would be nice, too. Just the thought of Uncle Algie rolling in a gelatin-filled grave made him smile on the inside. It should go without saying it wasn't a particularly nice smile.

With a great amount of trepidation, he recited the spell.

For a long, long moment, there was naught but silence. It was, to drop a far too frequently used cliche, almost deafening in its silenceness. Neville honestly had no idea how silence could actually be deafening, but it seemed to fit. If he had to guess, he'd say it probably had something to do with his sudden realization of what had just happened, and the way the panic gnawing at the edges of his mind was rapidly drowning out the confused whispers that were just starting up around the chamber.

Then the noise began.

It was a strange scraping sound, like dry leaves blowing across pavement. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, closing in on him from all sides. A few startled shouts came from around the chamber as something brushed across the feet of unsuspecting children.

From all around the chamber vines were slowly slithering into the circle. Their large thorns scrambled across the stone as they went, producing the strange sound. Onward they stretched. He had no idea where they'd come from, but it was obvious where they were going.

They were all heading for the boy standing frozen in the center of the chamber.

The vines met before him, twisting around each other and forming a solid mass. They sort of fused together and became one entity, a thick stalk covered in large thorns that glistened ominously in the dim light. A flower, an enormous black orchid, quickly grew from it. After a moment, the beautiful flower bloomed.

There was a girl in the center. She had the blackest hair he had ever seen, braided tight across her skull and falling loosely around her shoulders. Slim with a modest bust, she had the build of a seasoned gymnast Her pale skin almost glowed in the dim light of the chamber.

She was also completely naked. That fact was more or less lost on Neville as he stared at her in wonder, but there were more than a couple of students in the stands that **definitely** noticed it.

She leaned forward towards Neville, arms spread wide. With a smile on her face, she beckoned him forwards.

McGonagall shot to her feet, slamming her palm down on the stone table before her. The surface shifted and rippled slightly as she pushed off it, taking half a step forward. That was about as far as they got, though, as Dumbledore quickly placed a hand on her shoulder and brought her to a halt with surprising strength.

"Albus-"

"Now Minerva, you well know that a familiar cannot harm her master." he said soothingly.

"But it-"

"Just let them be. It will be fine, I promise you."

Neville slowly walked forward, examining the creature he'd summoned. It was obviously some sort of plant, but it was like nothing he had ever seen or heard of. Since he'd read every book on plants he could get, both magical and mundane, that was quite surprising. He wondered where she'd come from.

The girl in the flower, for her part, was still motioning with her arms was obviously urging him to move even closer. He complied, approaching close enough that he could easily reach out and touch her. She once again held her arms out. It took him a moment, but he eventually figured out what she was trying to say.

He stepped forward, moving within easy reach of her. With a brilliant smile she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him. The petals of the giant flower closed around them both, drawing startled gasps from several students. Dumbledore was forced to restrain the deputy headmistress again.

After a moment, the petals fell away. They immediately wilted, dissolving into nothing before they hit the ground.

Neville stood alone in the center of the circle. He had one arm raised and was staring at it with a look of wonder on his face. Several thorny vines were wrapped tightly around the limb. He could feel the needle-sharp tips pricking gently at his skin, but none actually pierced his flesh.

"Wicked."

The vines around his body gave a slight squeeze. He supposed it was supposed to be something like a hug.

Neville happily picked up his mini-orchid and headed back for the stands. He'd been a bit worried about using the delicate plant in the ritual, but it seemed to have come out fine. Besides, there was no arguing with the results.

 _To bad Uncle Algie's not still around. I'd love to grab his pathetic cockatiel and feed it to-_

The boy paused suddenly.

Where had that thought even come from? He'd always hated the stupid bird almost as much as his stupid uncle, but that seemed like a bit much. After all, it wasn't the poor bird's fault her master was an asshole. Uncle Algie was the one who had lorded the bird over him, acting like the pathetic sack of feathers somehow made him special. All those comments about Neville getting a cockroach if he was lucky, when all he had was an ugly old bird…

In retrospect, he almost felt bad for his uncle. It was kind of sad that he thought so much of himself, with so little to actually back it up. Maybe he should plant some flowers around his grave or something. He'd really be doing the guy a favor, and that bit of estate was far too nice to do nothing but house the body of a miserable old bastard.

Besides, feeding the plants would probably be the most useful thing the man'd done in his life.

Err… death.

* * *

 **Potter, Harry (Gryffindor)**

* * *

Harry tried to steel his nerves as he walked into the center of the circle. Reasonably speaking, he knew he wasn't expected to do anything extraordinary here. He'd already seen a whole bunch of his classmates do it without any problem. That included Hermione and Neville, whom he knew for sure didn't have anymore experience with it than he did.

Of course, that was part of the problem. Both of his friends had managed to set the bar ridiculously high.

Trying to swallow his anxiety, Harry numbly finished setting things up. At least he could take comfort in the fact that he hadn't messed that part up.

"Now then, Mr. Potter, I assume you remembered your offering?" McGonagall asked. Behind her, Ash was peering out from behind her legs and giving him a look that clearly said, "You fucking better have…"

Harry nodded, producing his wand.

His ash wand.

McGonagall's eyes widened in shock as they fixed upon the length of sandy grey wood. For a moment Harry could swear there was a hint of suspicious warriness in her eyes.

"Mr. Potter… what is that?"

Harry looked back and forth between his wand and her face, trying to figure out if it was some kind of joke. "It's my wand, professor. That's what I'm offering."

"...I see. Mr. Potter, I was under the impression that your wand was made out of birch," his head of house said slowly. "You do realize that offering another's wand in this ritual would be a folly of catastrophic proportions, correct?"

"Oh, that's my other wand," Harry replied, suddenly understanding. "I like this one better."

"...and you are certain that is the one you would like to offer? Wouldn't the other be better? After all, you are technically giving it away. Perhaps keeping the one you favor would be best."

This time Harry couldn't help but give her a confused frown. "I thought it was supposed to be something really important. My other wand isn't important."

McGonagall sighed in resignation. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Not even I have the right to interfere with your Summoning Ritual, and your choice of offering is part of that. Just…"

"Just…?"

"Please wait until I am clear of the Circle before you begin. Well clear."

McGonagall beat a hasty retreat, reclaiming her seat in the staff gallery. 'Hasty' being a relative term, of course, because she'd be damned if she was about to move fast enough to look undignified. Her Familiar didn't have the same problem, though. Ash took off across the platform as soon as she turned, moving so fast she could hear his claws on the stone.

From the seat beside her, Hagrid asked, "Should I be taking cover behind the table?" in a tone that was clearly only half joking.

"..."

"I'm certain it will be alright."

"You **do** remember replacing one of your cabin's walls the first time you saw that blasted thing, don't you? If I recall, that was a simple Banishing Spell."

Hagrid hesitated before replying, "James was a jammy bloke, no doubt, but it never did react well to him. It seems quite taken with Harry."

"Perhaps. I can't help but think there was a reason it was sealed away in the Potter vault. If it weren't for James' insistence, it would have gone straight back there. Damn wand is going to be the death of me..."

In the center of the Chamber, Harry was actual having second thoughts for exactly the same reason. It had, belatedly, occurred to him that something he had been explicitly told was capable of causing unexpected carnage may not be the best choice for something like this. Unfortunately it was too late, because now he he was standing in full view, wand in hand. Everyone was watching.

If he put his wand away now, an explanation would no doubt be needed. No matter how he wracked his brain, he couldn't come up with a good one.

Not good enough to keep Fred from calling him a pussy, anyway. If he backed down now he would probably be getting shit for being afraid of his own wand for the next year or fifty.

 _Oh Vasco._

Screw it. If wizards could keep the accident-prone Weasley alive, they could probably stitch together whatever was left of him if all he managed to summon was a huge explosion.

Hopefully.

With a resigned shrug, Harry dropped his wand to the floor in the exact center of the chamber.

 _Hear my voice from distance unknown,_

 _You whom hold half my soul._

 _Come to me and be my own._

 _Only you can make me whole._

The last words echoed briefly across the huge chamber. Harry waited with bated breath as they faded.

And waited.

And waited.

There was an awkward cough from somewhere in the chamber, momentarily breaking the even more awkward silence

This wasn't like with Neville. In his case, people had only just begun to think something was wrong when the vines appeared. It had passed that point long ago.

Was this it? Had he managed to prove he shouldn't be here by failing something literally any wizard should be able to do? Was he doomed to return to the Dursley's, his life only made that much worse by the knowledge of this failure? Did-

"Ooh~, what're we looking at?"

The sudden question sent Harry's depressing train of thought careening right off the rails. He tried to suppress a frightened squeak, but the cheerful voice had come from directly behind him. Just inches behind him, actually. Close enough that he could feel warm breath on the back of his neck. It was more than enough to startle him, causing him to try and turn and leap away at the same time. When that didn't work so well, so he settled for awkwardly hitting the ground and scrambling away on all fours.

He took comfort in the fact that several quite audible gasps came from the stands. All those people making surprised noises were a good distance away and starting right at the circle, and they had **still** been surprised. Considering that, his reactions seemed pretty appropriate, considering how close behind him she had suddenly appeared.

Who was he kidding? His redheaded friends were going to have a field day with this.

Harry stared up at the person that had appeared behind him with wide eyes.

It was a girl.

That fact, at least, was pretty hard to miss. If Lady was excessively feminine in an unreal way, the sudden arrival was feminine in a very, very real sense. Curved hips, a narrow waist and huge… tracts of land made that abundantly clear. The halter top and a pair of shorts cut high enough to show a bit of hip, both of which were tight enough to be a second skin, just drew even more attention to the fact.

Two other things about her immediately stood out to Harry.

The first was her hair. It was a brilliant scarlet, even brighter than the twins'. The shade was almost unnatural. It hung down her back in a tangled mane so long that the ends brushed the floor. A thin black and red ribbon wound randomly through it was the only thing that held it in something even remotely resembling order.

A single silver bell hung off the strip of fabric on one side, just a bit below and behind her jaw.

The second thing that occurred to him was that she definitely wasn't human .

The amber eyes she was staring at him through were a shade he was pretty sure a person shouldn't have. As if that wasn't enough, they were slitted. Her pupils were nothing more than narrow gashes, much like the Adder's. She had long nails that extended at least a few centimeters past her fingertips. They were so narrow he could actually see parts of her finger that should have been covered, and so thick they looked more like they were coming out of the digits instead of resting atop them.

They also tapered to a rather nasty point that he was certain he wouldn't like to be poked with.

"Uh… hi?" Harry said uncertainty.

"Shh!" she immediately hushed him. "I'm looking at… What **am** I looking at?"

It occurred to Harry that she wasn't exactly looking at him. Frowning, he waved his his hand, then took several steps to the side. She continued looking fixedly at a point several meters behind where he had been standing.

"There's… there's nothing there…" Harry pointed out.

The girl gave an irritated huff and dropped unceremoniously back onto her rear. "Why are we looking at nothing? It isn't very interesting, you know. We should be looking at something, not nothing. Something is almost always more fun to look at. Nothing just gets boring after a while." she complained. Her eyes remained fixed on the center of the circle the entire time.

"Um... excuse me, but-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"Oh! **You're** something, aren't you? It'd probably be more fun to watch you. People are almost always interesting. Sometimes, anyway," the girl observed. Despite this, she continued to stare fixedly at the middle of the room.

The students watching the spectacle were beginning to realize something was off. He could already hear quiet whispers around the room. A few people were had started giggling quietly. It was only a matter of time before his audience started laughing in earnest.

Harry decided it would be a good idea to just bull straight on ahead.

"Look, you're my Familiar, aren't you?" he asked.

The girl's head whipped around so quickly that Harry was surprised she didn't break her own neck. Her eyes bored into him with frightening intensity. A shiver of fear ran through Harry's body.

"I summoned you, right? You're my familiar?" Harry repeated weakly. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to get that out around the lump in his throat. He felt pinned down, like he was struggling under an oppressive weight that made it hard to breath, let alone move.

"You... summoned... me...?" she asked slowly. "You summoned me? Here? You're the one that called me?"

Harry nodded uncertainty. "I- I think so…"

The girl sprang to her feet, going from sprawled on the floor to standing in an impossibly fast movement. Harry suddenly found himself being examined from mere centimeters away. The rapid approach should have caused him to flinch back, but his entire body simply locked up beneath her intense stare. Something about her eyes sent a freezing wave down his spine and caused his brain to come to a screeching halt.

He was absolutely certain he now knew exact what the phrase, "like a deer in the headlights," meant.

"I heard you. I haven't heard anyone in so long, but I heard you. Now I'm here, and it's because you called for me? Because you wanted me to be here?"

Harry nodded again.

"I see," she said, leaning in to study him from a bit closer.

Harry had the distinct feeling he was being judged somehow, and he was starting to wonder if this whole thing had been a good idea after all.

"Hmm~, so that means…"

Harry tried to swallow the lump growing in his throat. "That means…?"

"Mine," she said quietly.

Something must have changed at that point, because the borderline terror suddenly vanished. In its place, it left a mild sense of confusion.

"Uh, mine? Mine what?"

" **Mine**!" she repeated happily, this time nearly shouting. She wiggled her rear - a move that was quite interesting to many of the students behind her, given her figure - then hurled herself into the air.

The was just enough time for Harry's jaw to drop open in shock before sixty-two kilograms of ballistic redhead slammed into him. The impact drive him down and slammed him into the ground hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. He gasped for breath, but quickly discovered breathing was quite a bit harder than it should be.

"I have a boy! I have a boy!" she happily sang out. Her arms were wrapped around his head, shoving his face deep into her cleavage. Harry was desperately trying to get away, but his struggles just seemed to be encouraging her to hug him tighter. It was like she thought he was trying to escape (which he was) and was bound and determined to not let it happen (which she was).

Someone in the hall muttered, "Lucky..."

"Damn it! Why'd you bite me!?" a second, nearly identical voice demanded a half-second later. " **He** said it!"

Not even noticing this interjection, the girl happily announced, "I have a boy!" yet again. She grabbed Harry's shoulders and triumphantly held him aloft for all to see. "I have a- uh... are boys usually all blue?"

"Ack." Harry said. It was turning out to be a long week. That probably wasn't a good sign, considering it'd just begun.

"Are you okay, My Boy?" she inquired. She curiously tilted her head to one side, trying to get a better look at his face. The sharp movement jarred the bell tied into her hair. It produced a sharp jingle that echoed through the hall.

She froze, dropping Harry onto the hard chamber floor. Her eyes widened and her body tensed. Without warning, she suddenly whirled around.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

The entire hall just looked on silently. This was just a bit beyond ridiculous, even for the wizarding world. No one was quite sure what to do. Should they stop it, or just let things play out?

"Bell!" _Jingle._ Whirl.

"Bell!" _Jingle._

A small hand shot out and latched onto the offending object. It was deftly removed from its ribbon. Even as she began to turn, Harry held the bell out in front of him.

The girl froze and gazed lovingly at the silver ball. "Bell..." she observed softly.

"Yeah. Bell. Here." Harry managed to choke out between gasps. He had managed to recover quite a bit during her bell-induced spaz attack, but he wasn't quite back up to 100%.

"You got me a bell?" she asked in an awed tone. She took it from him and examined it carefully. "Thank you, My Boy. It even matches my-"

She froze, one hand raised to her hair. Her eyes were wide with horror. She began frantically patting her head, tugging the spot from which the bell had originally hung.

"My bell! My bell is gone! I lost my bell!" she wailed.

This proved to be the final straw. Someone in the audience started laughing. It didn't take long for others to join him.

"Seriously, Potter? A retarded muggle? That's the best you can do?" a familiar voice shouted from the audience. It was pretty clear that it was half amused, half disappointed, and mostly intended to poke fun at him.

An instant later three things occured to Harry at roughly the same time:

1) Obviously his classmates were too far away to see the girl's odd (and somewhat scary) features.

2) Some people clearly didn't quite catch that Draco was more or less just giving him shit.

3) The redheaded woman was no longer standing in front of him.

A piercing scream split the air.

 _Oh, there she is._

Several students had been dislodged from the bench Draco was previously on. The boy himself was lying prone at the edge of the circle. His terrified look and gaping mouth made it obvious he was the source of the shriek.

The redhead was crouched on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Her left arm was held to one side, fingers splayed out and nails just barely touching the stone floor.. Her other hand was poised over Draco's face.

From his new, prone position Draco had no problem seeing the redhead's less-than-human features. In fact, he had a **very** good view of them, especially the nasty points her nails ended in. Two of them were positioned just above his eyeballs, so close that he could swear he actually felt them resting on his cornea. The touch was light enough that he wasn't even sure he felt it, but still just barely noticeable.

"You make a lot of annoying squeaking noises. I think you might be a mousie." she announced. She was amusing herself by drawing figure-eights across his pupil with the back of her nails. Despite her using the backside, they were still angled in a way that would make it very easy to drive them down. " _Are_ you a mousie?"

Trying very hard not to move, Draco whimpered, "No..."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The girl sighed in disappointment. "Oh, that's too bad. I **love** mousies. Love them to pieces!"

She grinned at Draco.

Draco pissed himself.

He really tried not to, but he couldn't help it. The girl's smile was probably the most horrific thing he had ever seen. Her canines started in the front and went all the way back. She had neither molars nor incisors, just an entire mouth full of frighteningly sharp points. It was the sort of mouth that belonged on a horrible carnivorous monster, not a girl.

(A/N: My wife's exact google docs note, "He doesn't know much about girls does he?")

It didn't take much imagination to figure out what they could do to flesh, or even bone.

"Young lady!" McGonagall's stern voice snapped out. "That is enough!"

The girl twisted at the waist, turning to look at the professor curiously. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the frightening pressure left his eyes. Resting a nail against her front teeth, she curiously asked, "Is that me?"

"Of course!" McGonagall snapped. She continued across the circle toward them, her familiar trailing behind her. Her wand was held loosely in her hand. She hated this part of her job, but being deputy headmistress made her responsible for maintaining order in the school. That meant dealing with familiars that got out of line and refused to back down.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Whatever the girl was, she seemed fairly good-natured, if a little over-protective.

"Oh... I kinda figured. Haven't been a lady lo~ong time, but if someone's yelling, they're usually yelling at me." she said sagely.

"This is just what I needed." McGonagall muttered. Louder, she said, "Yes, I would imagine. Would you kindly remove yourself from Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mr. Whonow?"

McGonagall allowed herself to smile slightly. "The... mousie."

"Nope."

Minerva stared at the girl in shock. She wasn't even sure when the last time someone had said something like that to her, but it had been a **very** long time.

"...no?"

"Uh-huh. We're not done playing. Mousies like to play until they get re~ally tired and go to sleep," she said sagely. "Mousies are lazy, and they like to sleep for a lo~ong time. I dunno how long, though. I usually get bored waiting for them to wake up and eat them."

Draco whimpered.

"There will be no… .playing of that sort here. Am I clear?" McGonagall said firmly. "We prefer our mousies not get that tired."

The girl met her stern gaze, tilting her head and humming with a thoughtful look on her face. Despite being on the wrong end of a rather intense stare, she was clearly completely uncowed. In fact, it was equally obvious she was actually trying to decide whether or not to comply.

Finally her eyes drifted down to the professor's covered arm. "Hmm… will you play with me, then? I think you might be lots of fun. I haven't had lots of fun in a long time, either…"

Before McGonagall could respond, a soft voice asked, "Can you please get off of him? He's my friend… I think. Either way, I think he was just having fun… uh… joking, I mean. No fun. Just joking."

The girl's eyes immediately shifted from McGonagall's arm to Harry. Her eyes widened in wonder the moment her gaze fixed on his face. She'd clearly been so focused on the professer she hadn't noticed him approaching, but now that she had…

"My Boy," she whispered.

"Oh vasco,"

Luckily for Harry, who hadn't been looking forward to another visit to Pillow Hell, she didn't make it to him. Professor McGonagall's hand shot out and grabbed her hair as she went past. The old witch was obviously much stronger than she appeared. She not only managed to keep her grip to on the red mess, but her stance barely shifted as she hauled the girl to a screeching halt.

The redhead's eyes widened in shock. The bottom half of her body kept moving even as the top was brought up short. Her legs shot out from under her, still making a flailing pedaling motion. She desperately grabbed the base of her mane with both hands.

"Ack! My tail!" she shrieked in horror.

McGonagall released her hair. Forward momentum completely arrested, the familiar slammed straight down into the ground. She impacted with a very audible thud.

"Owie..."

"Now then. I think that's enough of that," harrumphed the teacher. "Mr. Potter, you will take your Familiar and rejoin the rest of your house. Do try to keep her under control."

"I'm sorry, professor." Harry said sadly. He had been hoping to get through this without embarrassing himself. Still, it looked like had managed to summon a Familiar. She was a little weird, but...

Okay, she was a lot weird.

"Come on, let's go sit with my friends, okay?" Harry suggested. "This is really important, and we don't want to ruin it for other people.

His Familiar, who had been trying to glare a hole right through McGonagall, turned at his voice. Her gaze immediately softened. "Okay, My Boy. If you say so."

Gently nudging his hand to the side, she slid lithely to her feet. Once she was standing again it was easy to see why she'd refused his help. She was more than a full foot taller than him and probably twice his weight. If he'd tried to haul her up, he probably would've just ended up on the ground next to her. Somehow he hadn't noticed that before. He supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how hard she'd managed to hit both him and Malfoy.

McGonagall watched the pair head for the Gryffindor benches. The staff was going to have their work cut out for them with this bunch of students. Longbottom's summon alone would be headache enough, but it was far from the only problematic one. When you added in the more "colorful" familiars from previous years...

It was never a good sign when you started getting migraines during the first week. This was probably going to be a long year.

She turned back to the hapless student on the ground. To her surprise, there was now another Draco there. The new addition was perfectly identical to the prone boy in every way. It was as if Draco had suddenly acquired a twin brother.

The second blond had the traumatized boy's head in his lap and was stroking his forehead soothingly. He looked up at McGonagall with concerned eyes and asked, "Shall he beest good?"

 _Sister,_ McGonagall corrected herself. The second Draco's voice was quite obviously feminine. She was hoping against hope that didn't mean what she thought it did. "You are Mr. Malfoy's familiar, then?"

"I bethought he needst holp. Mine own f'rm is divine, but being small is oft inconvenient. Besides, this corse is quite quaint enow."

 _Wonderful_. "I'm fairly sure your master will be fine, but it'd be a good idea to get him to the Hospital Wing. I assume won't mind escorting him?"

Female Draco made a disgusted face. "Mine own mast'r? Nay living thing is w'rthy of yond title. I'll hark to this one because his visage is fair, i supposeth, but that gent c'rtainly is nay mast'r of mineth."

Even as McGonagall was seriously considering a career change, the blonde familiar gently set Draco down and stood.

"Cometh anon, mine own quaint one. We wilt receiveth thee somewh're safe. T'wouldst beest a pity if 't be true thy visage wast did scar," the girl declared.

She easily hauled Draco to his feet, then gave him a gentle push towards the stands. The first-year began numbly stumbling forward, which was apparently good enough for her. The Familiar's body twisted and took on a silver sheen, then collapsed inward. An instant later there was sign of Draco's twin.

In her place, she left a small fairy-like creature. She almost looked like a doxy, but her entire body was composed of a silvery material akin to mercury. In that form, it was easy enough to identify her as the small spirit that had flown out of Malfoy's offer: a small, silver mirror given to him by Luscious.

Harry had to suppress a shiver as soon as Draco took it out of his pocket, though he didn't know why. For some reason the image of a particularly flamboyant pirate came to mind when he saw it.

As he slipped quietly back into his seat, Harry found himself the subject of a wide-eyed stare from Fred. The redhead had paled noticeably, and had a borderline frightened look on his face.

"Harry," he whispered. "I promise I won't make fun of you for screaming like a little girl. Not ever. Just let me keep my eyes."

The younger boy didn't have a chance to answer before he suddenly found his space being invaded. It seemed like Lady wasn't the only over-affectionate Familiar around, because the redhead had leapt into the seat and scooted far closer to him than necessary.

"Um, hi…"

"Mine," she replied quite simply.

Harry looked up and down the bench helplessly. When he didn't get anything even resembling a response he asked, "Is this how it's supposed to work? Because I think something might have gone wrong…"

"Dude. If that's how you screw things up, you've totally got to teach me!" Fred declared. He seemed to have gotten over his nervousness in an instant - not unusual for Fred, Harry supposed - and was eyeing their new friend. "I must learn your ways, oh master of bountiful failures."

It was a bit difficult, given the suddenly cramped conditions, but Harry managed to turn and give his new Familiar an uncertain look. She had a look of intense concentration on her face as she carefully tapped a portion of blood sausage with the back of her nail.

"Yeah… if you say so."

George chuckled. "Hey, your horrible and unforgivable lack of appreciation for this aside, at least nothing exploded. For a minute there you looked like you were afraid they'd be scraping bits of you off the walls."

Giggling nervously, Harry asked, "Why would you say that, George? That's ridiculous. There's absolutely no reason to think I'd accidentally cause fatal explosions."

"Oh, great. So you accidentally summon hotness incarnate, and now you're definitely not causing massive booms. That's not fair, Harrynuts. We're going to have to step up our game," Fred complained. "Do you have any idea how much work actually working is?"

"Please don't. I don't even know what you're talking about, and I still think 'stepping up your game' sounds like something I don't want to happen…" Hermione grumbled from his other side.

"Is this food?" Harry's familiar asked. She lifted her hand to display a chunk of black pudding impaled on her nail.

"That's… kind of open to interpretation…" George replied.

"That's black pudding, hotness. Calling it food is like calling the Goo friendly: it's a huge exaggeration."

"That's not an exaggeration, Fred. The Goo wasn't friendly at all. Not unless you consider sticking the eyeballs out of someone's skull and planting larva in their soul friendly."

"I rest my case."

"Please don't play with that… um…"

The Familiar turned away from the "food" long enough to give him an indulgent smile. "Silly My Boy, my name isn't Um," she declared, waggling her finger at him. The black pudding wobbled and flung small blobs in every direction.

"That's not what I meant. Who are you?"

The Familiar frowned at the questionable foodstuff. "Who am I? I'm sorry, My Boy. I'm not very good at philosophical questions. I do know the answer is 42, though."

"That's… nice, I guess? But what's your name?"

"You **are** silly, My Boy. My name isn't What either. You can call me that if you want, though. It sounds a lot better than Um."

Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. He was really hoping this want a sign of things to come. "Let's try again. Could you tell me your name?" he asked. Then, as soon as he saw her starting to open her mouth, added, "Don't say yes. Just tell me your name."

"Men'nace Asha Ve'nar shi Karaven an S'ieera," she replied promptly.

The table's other occupants started at her in disbelief.

"Wow. Okay…" Hermione muttered, pretty much summing the prevailing attitude up.

Except for Fred's, anyway. The Weasley giggled into his hands and asked, "Your name is Menace? Seriously?"

"Men'nace," she corrected. "My whole name means 'the beautiful goddess with hair of flame red,' or something like that," she said, frowning down at her hands as she tried to flick the black pudding off her nail. The questionable substance was stubbornly refusing to let go. "So, Men'nace would mean something like Crimson, I think. I'm not sure, though. My words don't turn into your words very well. It's weird, because I didn't know I could even use two sets of words."

"According to _Magical Rituals of the Modern Era_ , Familiars often acquire their wizards linguistic skills when they're summoned. It helps facilitate communication between the two."

Men'nace stared back at Hermione with wide eyes. "Oh~, that makes sense."

"... you have no idea what I just said, do you?"

"Nope!" the Familiar admitted happily. "You can just call me Menace if you want. It's pretty."

"I'm not going to call you that. It's not nice," Harry replied.

She shrugged. "People've called me lots of not-nice things."

"Well I'm not going to be one of them."

"Aww~, My Boy is a nice boy," his Familiar cooed. "Peoples call me Kersa'vas Ain. It means… um…"

The others looked at her expectantly as she paused, a look of extreme concentration in her face.

"That doesn't change the words well at all. I think 'Angel's Song' is kind of close, though. Maybe."

Harry beamed. "See, that's much nicer! I'll call you Angel, then."

Angel made a strange face for a moment, then shrugged. "Nicer…? My Boy, are your angels nice things?"

"Of course. Wouldn't it be weird if they weren't?"

"Dunno. Your foods are really weird, though. I've had foods that tried to eat me first, and I still like it better than this…" Angel grumbled. She glare down are her hand, and the black pudding still impaled on her nail, then have her wrist a violent snap.

The hunk of nastiness finally slid off her finger. It arced high in the air, dribbling a trail of glistening drops as it went. There was a smattering of horrified cries a it flew overhead, punctuated with the sound of Gryffindors lunging forward to shield their plates with their bodies. A moment later the panicked shouts were replaced by a collective sigh of relief as it sailed out of their section entirely.

They may have been the house of the brave, but no one wanted a closer encounter with that stuff.

Unfortunately for at least one person, the Ravenclaw students rarely paid attention to what was happening in the 'less enlightened' houses.

"Ow! My eye!" came a feminine shriek from further down the chamber.

"Ohmygod! Cho!"

Angel looked toward the cries for a moment, then quickly hid her hands behind her back. "Didn'tdoit! Can't prove did it!"

"Do what?" Harry asked, giving her a confused look.

"Hit the girl with the thing. I mean, I didn't hit the girl with the thing!"

George gasped, "Someone hit Chang with a chunk of black pudding? When did that happen?"

"I dunno, George, I must've missed it," Fred replied. "Bummer. I would've liked to see that."

"I bet you'll have a chance, brother. She strikes me as the type that's gonna take a lot of sausage to the chin in the future."

"Brother!" Fred snapped. "How dare you say something so horrible and even more true!?"

Hermione sighed and buried her face in her hands. "And to think, I was actually hoping someone would like me… If I had any idea it would be you two…"

Fred gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder and said, "It's okay. We all have to learn somehow," sympathetically.

"You have fun friends, My Boy."

Harry turned to frown at Angel. "Are you really going to run round calling me that?"

'Well, duh. You're my boy. What else would I call you?"

"My name is Harry," Harry replied. "You can call me that."

His Familiar studied him for a moment, then giggled. "That's a silly thing to call my boy, My Boy. You're not even hairy at all."

"Well, you can't just call me 'My Boy,' Angel. It sounds silly," Harry complained.

Angel looked back at him for a long moment, a look of intense concentration on her face. She looked him up and down a few times, then seemed to come to a decision. Tilting her head slightly, she fixed him with her affectionate gaze, gave him a sweet smile and said, "Master?" in a questioning tone.

A large portion of the Gryffindor students were suddenly struck with some sort of strange fit. Silverware clattered to the table, plates hit the floor, and half-eaten meals landed in laps. Coughing and choking could be heard all up and down the tables. A few student keeled over so hard they ended up on the ground.

The fit, oddly enough, seemed to strike the male Gryffindors for the most part, though a fair number of witches were likewise affected.

Harry, for reasons a couldn't quite fathom, found himself turning a brilliant shade of red. Something about the way she had said the word made it sound very much like something that shouldn't be uttered in public.

"My Boy is fine. You can call me that," he squeaked.

Smiling again, Angel said, "Thought so." It may have just been Harry's imagination, but there definitely seemed to be a smug tone to her voice.

"What did you say?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, My Boy. I'm just a silly kitty. I didn't say anything at all."

"That's... quite the familiar you have there, Harry." Fred declared. He was trying very hard to climb back onto his feet without trailing his robes through the assorted food now littering the floor. "Very... unique."

"Yeah, don't think we've ever seen one quite like her." George agreed. He hadn't fallen off the bench, but had managed to send his entire plate flying into his face. "I'd say she's definitely got a lot of potential."

"Mounds of potential."

"She's clearly incredibly talented. It's practically busting out at the seams."

"Really, I wish we had your summoning talent. You summoned a fox. We summoned foxes."

Two black projectiles shot across the table to slam into Fred's chest. The poor boy had just managed to climb back up onto the bench. Now the force of the impact knocked him straight back off of it. The three became a whirling ball of wizard, fox and pain.

Aside from a few startled first-years, no one really seemed to notice. It was starting to look like Hogwarts was just that sort of place.

Harry was surprisingly okay with that.

"Hey! Stop! They just fixed that! No! No! I like my eyes in my skull-holes!"

"Oi! Girls! Get off his face, okay? Our disappointment is next!"

"You have a disappointment?" Angel asked. She was too busy glaring at her fingers to look at George. The black pudding juice had congealed to her hand, leaving a residue that somehow managed to be both slimy and sticky. She had quickly discovered it couldn't simply be shaken off, so had settled for using a nail to scrape it away and wipe it on the edge of the table. The stone surface now sported several very obvious gouges.

Harry watched curiously as she tried to clean her nail again. As he had half suspected, it shaved off another sliver of stone.

"I have repeatedly told you that it is entirely inappropriate to refer to your brother in such a fashion." King gazed down on the group from the next tier up.

Hermione, sitting next to him, was watching in fascination as he worked a mangled spoon between his fingers. From the way he was acting, you'd think it was nothing more than a lump of clay. He was even using it as such, carefully twisting and forming it even as Lady persistently continued to feed him. It would no doubt soon be added to the growing collection of small sculptures in front of him.

The silver shapes were somewhat crude, but surprisingly detailed considering he had shaped them with nothing but his slender fingers. Apparently he was a bit of an artist, and expressing that seemed to be his way of dealing with the annoyance of being fed.

Lady, on the other hand, was clearly on cloud nine as she steadily speared food on a finger and pushed it into his mouth. At some point she had managed to slip into his lap, and now had an absolutely thrilled look on her face as she fed him. The fact that Hermione could see the Familiar's expression despite the elemental facing away from her was hurting her brain a bit. Seeing someone's face **through** their head was just a little bit disorienting.

Harry, for his part, was really hoping Angel didn't turn around at this point. Judging by her behavior so far, he was pretty sure he didn't want her getting any ideas. It was a very accurate assumption, but had come a little bit too late. His Familiar was quietly trying to come up with the best way to subtly disable her Master's hands.

"He's our brother, King." George sighed. "Trust us, he's a total failure. You'll finally get to see for yourself."

"Argblargle! Whut the thuck!? Not mah thoungh!" added Fred. He was frantically smacking at the foxes clinging to his face. "Thut it ouh, hew bithes!"

There was a long-suffering sigh as King shook his head. "It consistently amazes me how you are so completely unable to take anything seriously. Lady, my dear? If you would?"

The elemental paused, a finger-spear of food raised halfway to her Master's mouth. There was a very definite look of indecision on her face. Doing what her wizard had asked would require her to stop feeding him, which was just plain unacceptable. On the other hand, he could get quite stubborn when he was annoyed with her. There was a pretty good chance he'd stop letting her feed him anyway.

Oh well. There was always dinner.

Lady deformed and flowed around her wizard's body once, taking the opportunity to grab his ass in a very inappropriate way. It always amused her, especially since it was pretty much impossible to stop someone from doing so when literally any part of their body could give you a squeeze. It was one of the few times it actually amused her to annoy him, mainly because it always elicited an absolutely adorable look of exasperation.

Even as the frown was forming on King's lips, Lady was forming atop the table. The watery mass became a watery girl almost too fast to follow. She straightened into a standing position and, with an exaggerated flourish, reached into her own chest and withdrew a baseball-sized mass of water.

The melee on the floor instantly froze. Three three participants, human and fox alike, stared up at the elemental in horror as she wound up.

"You wouldn't…"

Fred was wrong, and he knew it. She definitely, definitely would. The statement was more reflexive than anything, and he realized it was a mistake even as he said it. Eyes widening, he desperately tried to close his mouth in time.

He failed.

The liquid projectile slammed down on him with a considerable amount of force, drilling him right in the center of the face.

"Oh God! Right in my mouth," Fred gagged, his words once again clear. The foxes had been blown straight off his face, leaving his mouth unobstructed. "I swallowed some and everything! Why does it taste so… weird!? Like old sockwater or something!"

Lady twitched very, very visibly. An annoyed shudder ran through her entire body, sending small but violent ripples across her surface. It was quite easy to see the pissed-off look on her mostly featureless face. Withdrawing another orb of water, she stretched her arm back. In the elemental's case this meant **actually** stretching, her arm becoming thinner and extending nearly twice its normal length.

Another watery projectile wailed Fred in the face, far harder than the first one. It was quickly followed by another and another, then a few more after that. Lady shrank visibly as the deluge went on, but somehow managed to hurl each water-ball harder than the last.

"Gah! Dammit! Fine then! Have at you, you moist menace!" Fred roared. He whipped out his wand, thrust it forward and gave it a sharp twist. " _Eitha_!"

Something slammed into Lady, hitting hard enough to visibly dent her chest. The elemental went flying backward like she'd been fired out of a cannon. Her position relative to Fred resulted in her slamming straight into her Master with devastating force. The impact had no visible impact on King, but was hard enough to send pieces of Lady flying in every direction.

"Oh. Wonderful," Hermione grumbled. He raised her arm and considered her sodden sleeve for a moment, then gave it a violent snap. The wet cloth released an impressive arc of water which resulted in some angry shouts from further down the table.

The protests suddenly stopped when she turned her annoyed glare towards the source of the complaints.

 _That's weird…_ Hermione thought, but decided it wasn't worth worrying about. It was pretty obvious wizards were a strange lot, so who knew what was going through their heads. Turning her eyes down toward Fred, she began, "And **you** -"

"Don't kill me!" the redhead squeaked, staring up at her with a frightened look on his face. "You can have my robes!"

Hermione looked at him for a moment in confusion. "Huh?"

"You can mug me! You don't even need a snake to do it!"

Another moment passed, Hermione's confused expression only intensifying.

There was a sharp click.

Deciding to shake off Fred's momentary weirdness, Hermione turned to the sound. As soon as she did she regretted it. She had no idea what she should think about the snake on Harry's shoulder, or the open switchblade clutched in its jaws, but she was pretty sure Fred's behavior didn't even come close to that level of weirdness

"Huh," she repeated. This time it was less of a question, and more like the sound it makes when the gears in someone's brain grind to a stop.

 _Hey, it's cool,_ the Adder hissed. _I'm always happy to help. Got my stabbin' knife ready and everything._

Harry sighed. "Adder, no mugging our friends. Go find someone else to shake down, okay?"

 _Fine, fine. But since you ruined my fun, you're only getting a 10% cut._

The snake slithered off Harry's shoulder and down his body. A moment later he was off, slithering through a sea of ankles in search of a victim. The scraping noise he knife made as the tip dragged across the stone floor was audible long after he had vanished.

"...did you just send your snake off to mug someone?" Hermione asked slowly. She was trying desperately not to think about it too hard, as her mind was just now getting back up to speed. As her inner workings kicked back in gear, her brain decided to invoke one of mankind's most powerful defense mechanisms: unconditional acceptance coupled with absolute denial.

Obviously it was perfectly normal for snakes to mug people. Obviously it was some sort of magical-wizard-mugging-wizard-snake. Why **wouldn't** it mug people? That's what magical-wizard-mugging-wizard-snakes did. Otherwise the name would be quite silly indeed.

She wasn't sure why a snake would need a knife to mug someone, though. That part seemed quite silly, and didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"Do you get a cut?" she asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Usually I get 15%, but he's kind of annoyed today. I'll probably only get 10%, but at least most of the people here are actually carrying money. Have you ever drank 15% of a classmate's milk carton? It's really silly, since he doesn't even drink milk, but I guess it's the principle of the matter.

"Do a lot of wizard kids carry money? I mean, how would you even know that?"

Scratching his head, Harry replied, "I dunno. They just look like the types that carry money around, I guess?"

"The kid's right," George said agreeably. "A lot of those pureblood ponces like to carry a little coin. Kind of dumb if you ask me. The only time we even have a chance to buy stuff is on Hogsmeade weekends."

Suddenly Harry gasped, a look of horror on his face. "Oh no! The Adder can't mug people! He just **can't**!"

"Well, it is a pretty morally questionable thing to do…" Hermione agreed.

"No, I mean he **can't**. Literally. Everyone carries metal coins here. How is he supposed to bring those back?"

Hermione frowned as she mulled that over.

"Oh dear, you're right. It seems a bit silly, doesn't it? I mean, you'd think a magical mug-snake would have developed some sort of capacity to transport coins. Are magic creatures exempt from the evolutionary process or something?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Maybe we should get him some sort of reptile backpack…"

George stared at her in disbelief. "Are you seriously saying you want to **help** that snake mug people?"

"Well, not exactly. I just think it's quite embarrassing for a magical mug-snake to have difficulty carrying coins. I mean, no one likes looking silly over things like that. Wouldn't you want someone to help you if you were in that situation?"

"I don't generally mug people, Hermione…"

"Why not? It's awesome!" Fred said as he slipped back into his seat. Two wet foxes were dropped onto the table with a wet splat. "All the cool snakes are doing it!"

"Fred, if all the cool snakes were jumping off a bridge, would you follow them?" George sighed.

"What? Hell no. What'd'ya think I am, stupid? Who the heck would jump into a river full of magical mug-snakes, George? There'd be way too many cutty knives and stabby teeth down there!"

"And poison," Harry added. "Don't forget the poison."

"You're not helping," George sighed. "Forget the mug-snakes for a minute, okay? I wanna see how bad Ronny-boy messes this up. I'm guessing a 7 out of 10 on the suck scale."

"I'm going with a 6.5 suck factor! I saw him eating his Wheaties this morning!" Fred declared.

"Nine."

The other students turned to look at Harry in surprise. In response, the boy shrugged.

"What? He was going on and on about some Chudley Crayons last night. I don't even know what that is, but apparently they've never won more than three games in a season. Even I know that's not good," Harry reasoned. "If you look up to a bunch of people like that…"

Fred threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him in close.

"Harry… have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked. "Because I do, Harry. I love you the most."

Harry paled and tried to scoot a little further away from his red-headed friend. It didn't work so well, though, because Fred held him fast.

"What's wrong, Harry? Don't you love me too? You're my-"

Fred paused as a set of slim fingers wrapped around his shoulder, just at the base of his neck. From right next to his head there was a low, barely audible growl. It was the sort of sound you'd expect a dangerous animal to make. Turning his head slowly, he managed to catch sight of a pair of very unamused slitted eyes looking down at him.

"Mine," Angel said simply.

Shuddering, Fred slowly nodded. He didn't even try to resist as she roughly shoved him to the side and plopped down between him and Harry.

"Ooh, look. Here we go!" George said excitedly. Seated on the other side of their young friend, he had either missed the byplay, or simply chosen to ignore it. "He's all set, and it only took him twice as long as it should have. I'm almost proud of him, but I'm pretty sure that feeling's about to die a horrible death. This oughta be good."

In the circle, the youngest Weasley son stood confidently. Like all the others, he knew how important this was. He knew that this would be a defining moment in his life. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would summon something incredible.

In the back of his mind, he was glad the Summoning was so easy. He hadn't really needed to study or anything.

Anticipation built within him as he recited the spell. This was his chance to show the world he was as good as any of his brothers.

No, this was his chance to prove he was **better** than them!

Ron recited the spell solemnly, managing to only stumble slightly as he went through the simple rhyme.

As he finished the last words, an extremely vulgar sound erupted across the chamber. If I had to describe it, I'd say it was like someone trying to play an out-of-tune trombone full of half-solidified gelatin. It brought to mind the the longest, wettest and most horrible fart the world had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. Thick streamers of baby-shit green smoke exploded outward, so greasy they actually left brown smears on the floor where they touched. The smell that rolled off them was so strong it was nearly **visible** , and those unfortunate enough to take a plume of the stuff to the face immediately threw up in their mouths.

Something fell out of the center of the noxious explosion and hit the floor with a vile splat. Despite the brevity and simplicity of the sound, it somehow managed to be worse than what he preceded it. Ron eagerly darted forward and attempted to snatch it off the floor. I say 'attempted' because he only managed to pull it up half a meter before it snapped back down with another splat. Frowning, he grabbed it again and this time managed to literally peel it off the stone.

"That has got to be-"

"-the most disgusting thing-"

"-I've ever seen," the twins finished together.

Hermione sat frozen in her seat, a look of abject disgust locked on her face. "My God, what the **hell** is that!?"

Shaking his head slowly, King replied, "I do not know. My friends, please forgive me for doubting you. It seems my assumptions were incorrect."

"Guys? I think my Familiar is wilting. Should she be doing that?"

Harry tried to answer, but ended up gasping instead as Angel scrambled into his lap in a panic. He found himself to be very glad she came with a fair amount of padding, at least. The experience would have been quite a bit worse if she had been built like Petunia or - shudder - Vernon.

"Ugly mousie… Really, **really** , ugly mousie…" she whimpered.

"That thingy is-"

"-about what we expected, King," George finished.

Fred shook his head and disagreed, "Uh-uh. I was banking on some sort of magic venereal disease. Cantrip Chlamydia or something. I'm pretty sure whatever that is is worse…"

The youngest Weasley son was holding aloft something that could generously be called a rat. Its fur was a bit overlong and definitely on the mangey side. It was also spotted with patches of green, obviously the result of some mold or fungus that had taken up residence. The whole creature looked a bit damp and slimy, as if Lady had given it an enthusiastic hug and then dunked it in a bucket of lard.

"Bill's got that... thing. Don't know what she is, but she's scary as hell. Looks like she's trying to decide how your soul would taste every time she looks at you."

"Charlie's got a salamander. The li'l bugger could torch a small town and still look cute doing it."

"We've got the girls, and even Perfect Percy has that weird metal owl."

"Not sure what it's supposed to be, but at least it's shiny."

"And then there's our beloved younger brother, proud summoner of a... something. Not really sure what that thing actually ism to be, honestly."

"Ron wants everything for nothing, King."

"Probably went into it thinking how nice it was to have something handed to him."

"Didn't wanna put in any effort, and that's what happens. Garbage in, garbage out."

Angel studied the rat(?) and made a disgusted, half-sickened face. "That doesn't look tasty at all," she whined.

"Don't try to eat it. You'll probably get sick.," Harry quickly said. "Wait, just don't eat stuff like that at all. Even if it does look… tasty."

"What?" Angel looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Why? Are you kidding? Because people don't eat rats!"

She stared at him for several seconds, then her eyes widened in understanding. "Ooh… I see. You're all confused and stuff. I'm not people, silly!"

The small collection of students looked her up and down. Fred and George did it perhaps a few times more than necessary.

It was Neville who broke the silence. "You're not?"

"No, of course not!" She scrambled out of Harry's lap (much to his relief) and adopted a low crouch on the bench. "I'm a cat!"

There was more staring.

"I am! Look! See my beautiful red fur?" She rocked backwards and proudly held her right arm aloft.

The stares continued. Angel hesitated, then followed their gazes. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she took in the limb which, needless to say, was not covered in fur.

She screamed. "Ahh! My fur! My beautiful fur! It's all gone. It's-"

"Calm down!" Harry shouted over her. He had the sneaking suspicion he'd be shouting that a lot in the future.

"Okay." Angel immediately stopped screaming. In stark contrast to her panic just a moment ago, she calmly plopped onto her rear and crossed her legs. "I figured out what's wrong, anyway. I'm people. People don't have fur."

"That's what we-"

There was a faint whoosh of inrushing air as the bouncy redhead vanished. Harry gaped. In her place on the bench was a tiny red kitten, sitting proudly and looking at him. There was a black ribbon wound several times around her neck with a small, silver bell hanging from it.

"Angel?"

The kitten gave a happy "Miyah!" and hopped into his lap. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the first time she'd done so.

"Well, would you look at that," George said, raising an eyebrow. "You've got yourself a rare familiar there, Harry."

"Right you are. I don't think I've ever actually seen a human animagus before. That's a neat trick." Fred added. "What a nice little kitty. Would've been more fun to pet her the other way, though.

A small foot slammed into the back of his head with a thud. In the next row up, Hermione hauled herself back into her seat and glared down at him. "Do you **have** to be a pervert?"

"Human… animagus?"

King cleared his throat. "An animagus is a witch or wizard that possesses the ability to become an animal. Occasionally, however, a magical creature will develop a similar ability. Animagi are named after the creatures they become, making your Familiar a human animagus. Were she a witch that became a cat, she would be a-"

"-pussy animagus!" Fred finished proudly. For his trouble, he received another kick to the head. "Careful, I might start to like-"  
The next assault couldn't even be called a kick. Hermione grabbed the edge of the table and, using the leverage it provided, swung beneath and drove both feet full into the back of his skull. Fred was sent pitching forward to slam his face into the stone table. There was a solid thinking noise, after which he didn't sit back up. Instead, he simply lay insensate in his plate full of gravy and potatoes.

"Oops."

"So… she's really a cat?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Looks like. One of the magical breeds, obviously. I couldn't tell you which one, though. Dunno if I've ever seen one like her before.

Harry looked down at the small feline sitting contentedly in his lap.

Much like George had said, she didn't look like any sort of cat he'd seen before. She was small for one thing, about the size of a newborn kitten despite clearly being full grown. She was also soft and fluffy, as if her fur had just recently come in. Wide, expressive eyes and whiskers that twitches every time she moved her head made her face absolutely adorable.

Like the way her human form was beautiful beyond belief, her cat form practically oozed cuteness to a degree that shouldn't be legal.

Harry thought about this for a moment, then reached down and gave her an experimental rub. She responded by pushing roughly against his hand. He'd always wanted a cat, but for very obvious reasons had never asked. His familiar turning out to be one seemed like a lot more good fortune than he was used to.

He very deliberately didn't think about the fact that the creature he was petting had just recently been a very human redhead.

Hey, it could be worse, right?

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

Okay, fair warning: I'm kind of tire of writing coherent author's notes.

Unfortunately, there's no erratic thoughts in my head to fill this space with.

So… see you next chapter, I guess?


	7. Interviews With Monster Girls

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Seven

"Interviews With Monster Girls"

(And Special Guest Star Sparkles)

AKA

"404: Clothing Not Found"

* * *

The Familiar was beautiful in a way McGonagall had never encountered before. All humanlike Familiars - especially any sort of shapechangers - were unusually attractive, but she went beyond that. It could fairly accurately be described as divine,crossing into a realm that was unnatural even by the standards of the magical world.

Her skin was pure, pale ivory without even the slightest hint of a blemish or flaw. Thin braids fell around her neck and shoulders, a darker black than any muggle dye kit could achieve and without a single hair out of place. A delicate bone structure and slim figure gave her a distinctly aristocratic look. With a lean and strong build, she had the body of a professional gymnast, which was basically a polite way of saying whoever had invented the "Almost-B" bra had done it with her in mind.

The beautiful young woman was probably one of the more frightening creatures McGonagall had ever come across. It wasn't necessarily that she was dangerous, thought that was certainly true. It was more because she was sitting just over a meter away and McGonagall **still** wouldn't have a clue what she was if she hadn't seen it first hand. Her mimicry of a human being was so perfect that the witch hadn't spotted anything yet that gave her away.

For some reason the thought of a creature that was far more dangerous than any dragon, but gave not the slightest sign of it, sort of freaked the witch out. She'd run across plenty of monsters in her time, but at least most of them had the decency to look like monsters.

Only seeing her "assemble" herself had made it clear exactly what she was. Her pale flesh was actually composed of countless, hair-fine creepers woven together in a seamless mass. There was neither muscle nor bone beneath it, just a tangled mass of thorns and vines in the shape of a human. The braids falling down her back weren't braids at all, but some sort of vine shaped to resemble them.

The eyes, as with so many inhuman creatures, were the only thing that provided the slightest hint of her true nature. Though the irises and whites were indistinguishable from the real thing, there was one slight flaw. If she looked at the Familiar hard enough, McGonagall was certain she could see movement behind her pupils. Where most people's eyes were windows to the soul, hers were portals leading to a grinding mass of deadly thorns.

The creature was staring back at her with a slight smile, as if she could read the professor's thoughts and found them quite amusing.

Despite her seemingly passive stance, there was a very palpable feeling of violence and viciousness around her, as if she was ready to lash out at any moment. It was entirely possible that that was actually the case. Many people made the serious mistake of thinking about humanlike creatures as if they were human. It was a foolish thing to do because, in the end, they had entirely different thoughts and emotions. Something like tearing apart a human and eating the remains could be perfectly natural and, while they could never deliberately harm their master, there was nothing protecting others from the same.

Hopefully it wouldn't be an issue, but the monster would discover McGonagall was quite difficult to eat if it came to that. She didn't know how well her signature magic would be against it, but it had proved fairly effective against almost everything she'd run across.

"Do you know why you are here, Mr. Longbottom?" McGonagall asked suddenly.

Neville started in surprise, then shook his head nervously.

"No ma'am."  
"I see. While it is a bit unorthodox, we will be completing you Familiar registration immediately," McGonagall stated. "Please give her a name."

Then young wizard looked across the desk, surprise overwhelming his fear.

"What? Right now? But it's not supposed to be until-"

"While tradition is quite important in many instances, there are times when it must take backseat to practicality. Occasionally the registration must take place immediately. This is one of those times."

Neville shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, staring down at the flower here held in his lap.

When faced with the task of choosing an offering, it had been the obvious choice. Mini-Orchids were notoriously difficult to care for. He'd kept this one alive for a year, though, which was a considerable achievement. It was one of the few points of pride in his life.

He'd been a bit worried about using it in the ritual, but it didn't seem to have been harmed. In fact, it looked healthier than ever. The petals were practically bursting with life, though they seemed darker than he remembered.

"Orchid," he declared suddenly.

Besides him, his Familiar stiffened momentarily and shivered, as it struck by a particularly intended chill. Almost immediately, the air of menace around her changed. It dropped in intensity a few notches and the feel of it changed. McGonagall no longer felt like she was looking at a wild beast that would happily kill you for food and/or sport. Now the Familiar gave the impression of someone who would feel no guilt over ripping out your spine and beating you to death with it, should it prove necessary.

She'd basically gone from, "Your face looks delicious. I'm going to rip it off and eat it, then pull your intestines out your nostrils for fun," to "Don't fuck with me, bitch. I'd love to eat your face, so just give me an excuse," which was a fair improvement. It didn't exactly make her **safe** to be around, but it no longer felt like the Familiar was going to attack at any moment. That was good enough for now.

Sometimes you just had keep your expectations realistic when dealing with inhuman creatures.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. Now then. I'm sure you have questions. To answer the first, registration of a Familiar is performed immediately if they are of an unknown species it are considered particularly dangerous."

"Oh. Why?"

"In the case of an unknown creature, it gives us the opportunity to identify them," McGonagall replied. "As for dangerous creatures, it makes them safer to be around. The Naming of the Familiar solidifies the Bond, allowing their master's soul to have greater influence over their own. It pushes their thought processes and emotions to resemble your own to a degree, creating a sort of sympathetic humanity. The effect varies from one to the next, but it generally allows more dangerous creatures to function without tearing everyone they meet to shreds."

Neville paused, then slowly turned to look at his Familiar. Seeing his attention on her, she gave him a sweet smile and waved. Here gave her a half-hearted wave in return, then shifted his gaze back to his head of house.

"She's dangerous?"

McGonagall chuckled dryly. "Your Orchid is an alura une, Mr. Longbottom. She is a sort of carnivorous plant spirit that has been all but extinct for centuries. When the species flourished, they were also known by the rather charming moniker of 'Venus man-trap.' Would you like to guess why?"

Slowly paling, Neville asked, "She- she… eats…"

"People," McGonagall finished. "All sorts of meat, really, but historical records indicate that most breeds prefered human beings to all other forms of prey."

Neville turned to look at the alura une again. Seeing his attention was once again on her, she gave him a brilliant smile. His smile back was somewhat weak and strained.

"In addition, she would appear to be of the black orchid subspecies. It is thought they were among the most dangerous alura une breeds, but it is difficult to say for certain. Even when the species was flourishing, little was known about them. Considering that lack of knowledge stemmed from how few survivors there were of their attacks, it seems safe to assume they don't fall under the heading of 'Mostly Harmless,' at the very least."

"She can't be **that** scary, right?"

"Throughout history there have been many mass disappearances of varying sizes in both the wizard and muggle worlds. They vary from small homesteads to large villages, every former occupant gone without a trace and no signs of a struggle," McGonagall said quietly. "The black orchid is thought to be responsible for a notable portion of them."

Neville wasn't sure exactly how he should feel about this. Apparently his Familiar was a horrible, man-eating death machine. The thought that she was sitting right next to him chilled him to the bone, even though he knew that, as her master, she couldn't deliberately harm him. On the other hand, he couldn't help but feel a degree of pride that he'd managed to summon a walking murder-plant.

He almost wished his Uncle Algie was still alive. Neville would have loved to shove this in the bastard's face and tell him his cockatoo could go suck a cock or two.

"Now, I would appreciate it if you would order your Orchid to refrain from causing significant harm to others while on Hogwarts grounds. It should go without saying that eating people is definitely forbidden under that rule."

The request quickly shook Neville out of his thoughts by reminding him that his awesome new Familiar was known to eat people.

"Oh. Right. Uh," Neville frowned and thought for a moment, then turned to face Orchid. Was it really okay for him to order a terrifying monster around?

Orchid smiled serenely at him and shifted her stance for maximum effect. It was important that her new Keeper understand how pretty she was so he could show the proper appreciation.

"...is she posing?"

McGonagall cleared her throat and gave the Familiar a disapproving glare.

"Alura une are creatures that entice food using their… charms. It isn't surprising that they would instinctively do such things," she sighed. It was starting to look like it was going to be one of **those** years.

The little bit of absurdity did a lot to reassure Neville, though. If she was doing something silly like posing for him, how much of a monster could she be?

Poor, naive Neville.

"Orchid… I don't want you hurting anyone, okay?"

Orchid tilted her head in a gesture designed to be brutally adorable.

A strong, sweet scent suddenly invaded Neville's nostrils. At the same time, a sudden flurry of images and feelings invaded his mind. They hit so hard it left him reeling for a moment, then vanished even faster. It was so quick he barely had time to register what he was seeing and hearing. Afterward, he was left with a faint feeling that could basically be translated as:

 _Why?_

"Are you alright, Mr. Longbottom?" McGonagall asked, watching him carefully as he shook the cobwebs out of his head.

"Yeah," he replied in a slightly dazed tone. "I… I think she just talked to me…"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And what did she say?"

Frowning, Neville paused to think for a moment. Forehead wrinkling in concentration, he responded, "She wants to know why she can't eat people. I think she's confused, because it's a natural thing for her to do."

"Well, you'd better explain it to her, hadn't you?"

Over the next several minutes Neville tried his best to explain to his new familiar why she shouldn't hurt - and especially eat - people. The conversation was complicated by his inability to explain something he'd never really thought about and her inability (or unwillingness) to understand. From her point of view, people enjoyed being eaten. She really didn't see why it mattered that they only enjoyed it because she was pumping them full of narcotic poisons.

Finally he had simply said that he liked other people, and that it would make him sad if she hurt them. Her appropriately horrified expression when he followed it up by telling her making him sad would be like hurting him made Neville pretty confident she'd got the message, even if she didn't really understand the reasoning. After that, she was more than happy to promise that she'd do no stabbing, crunching and eating.

The images that conveyed that were enough to turn Neville's complexion a faint shade of green.

"Good enough, Mr. Longbottom. Breaking a promise given to their master is extraordinarily difficult for even an intelligent Familiar when the promise is to their master,"

Neville sighed in relief.

By the end of the conversation he had started getting used to Orchid's odd form of communication, but getting to that point had left his head spinning. The constant barrage of images was dizzying to say the least, let alone the phantom sensations that sometimes accompanied them.

"I'm curious, Mr. Longbottom. You seem to be communicating with your Orchid using a means that I am not privy to," McGonagall said. "By what method are you accomplishing that?"

Neville turned to look at Orchid curiously.

"Yeah, how **are** you doing that?"

Giggling silently, Orchid lifted her hand in front of his face and rubbed her pale fingers together. An incredibly fine, white powder drifted down from them. The sweet scent spiked again, and images rushed into the young wizard's mind.

 _See?_

"Interesting," McGonagall said quietly. Internally, she resolved to practice her Bubblehead Charm until she could use it wandlessly without any delay. "Some sort of narcotic pollen, then? You have been conversing using a form of controlled hallucination?"

Orchid thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"I presume that is how you lure food into your embrace?"

The plant spirit thought for a moment. Then, smirking at McGonagall, she ran a hand down her chest.

 _Some._

Neville turned bright red.

"She… uh… says that she doesn't always need it…"

"Yes, I would imagine. That does bring us to the next problem, however," McGonagall said blandly.

Neville gave her a confused look and asked, "What problem."

Sighing, McGonagall pointed at Orchid's chest and said, " **That** problem."

Neville turned to see what she was pointing at, then froze. In an instant his face when bright red again, and quickly turned away while emitting a faint squeak.

Somehow, in all the mess about eating people and whatnot, he'd completely missed the fact that his Familiar was completely starkers.

The conversation that followed was far longer than it should have been, and even more difficult than the first. Orchid was adamantly against wearing clothing of any kind. As a creature that used her body to hunt, doing so was completely against her instincts. It was so bad that Neville for a moment though she would attack McGonagall when the professor offered to transfigure a robe.

Finally, they managed to settle on something approaching a compromise. Admitting defeat (sort of), Orchid caused flowers to bloom across her chest and from her hips. They formed something like a ruffled tube top and a tight skirt to match. Neville wasn't certain it counted as clothing, since it was part of her body still, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy McGonagall.

For the teacher's part, she was praising herself for her foresight in sticking a new bottle of muggle painkillers in her desk drawer. Something told her she was going to get a lot of headaches this year.

* * *

Harry idly stroked the cat in his lap as he watched his head of house rifle around in a drawer.

He kind of felt like he should be freaking out right now but, amazingly, he felt really calm. It probably had something to do with the fact that Angel was laying sprawled in his lap. Something about the purring cat made it very difficult to be nervous.

"Now then, Mr. Potter," McGonagall suddenly said, placing a sheet of fine vellum on her desk. "Do you know why you're here?"

Harry nodded.

"Neville said it's because Angel might be dangerous," he replied. It wasn't very hard to imagine her being a threat, given the way her fingernails sliced through stone. "He told me when he left."

"Mr. Longbottom is partially correct. In your case, the issue is that we don't know whether or not that is the case. You are here so that we can answer that question," McGonagall said. "If she is, or if we cannot identify her, we will have to register her now."

Harry nodded. Neville had told him that part too.

"That's okay. She already has a name, anyway. It's Angel," Harry declared proudly. "It's something people used to call her, I guess…"

"You've acknowledged the name she came with? Well, that does make things simple," McGonagall said. "Ms. Angel, would you please assume your other form so that we may talk?"

Harry's eyes widened in horror.

"Angel, she didn't mean-"

The cat changed.

Describing a tiny cat becoming a woman was hard to describe. Her form sort of twisted, folding in on itself in a way that hurt the eyes. Then mass rushed outward, quickly expanding into her human form.

Unfortunately, there wasn't nearly enough room between Harry's lap and McGonagall's desk to accommodate the girl. The force of her expansion was violent enough to actually move the ironwood desk a few centimeters. Harry, not weighing nearly as much, was launched backward. He hit the floor, tumbled, then slammed into the wall by the door. A pained groan escaped his lips as he collapsed into a heap.

"-right there," he finished weakly.

Angel, who had landed crouched in the now empty section of floor, turned to give him a confused look.

"My Boy, why are you lying all funny? You have to land on your feet if you're going to jump, silly!"

"Duly noted…" Harry whimpered. "I'll put that down right next to 'walls hurt' in my notebook…"

Hooking a foot around a leg of his chair, Angel swept it back into place without rising from her crouch. Then she grabbed Harry and stood, effortlessly lifting him off the floor and deposited him in his seat. A moment later she joined him, bouncing into the chair next to him.

"Thank you. Now, with your permission, I would like to cast a spell on your Familiar," McGonagall said, acting like she had totally missed the small incident. "It is intended to identify her, though it will most likely be a waste of time and resources. I am, unfortunately, required to do so regardless, simply to satisfy Ministry regulations."

"Why would it be a waste?"

McGonagall scowled as she placed a small diamond on the sheet of vellum. Angel's eyes immediately locked onto it.

"Shiny…" she whispered.

McGonagall actually chuckled at that.

"It's a diamond, dear. It would be odd if it was not shiny," she said. "As to why it is a waste, the answer is that the spell is almost certainly going to fail. The Libra spell is designed to identify animals and magical creatures. It is not meant to be used on humans. Because of that, anything that regularly becomes a human confuses it quite badly."

"Oh. Isn't not going to hurt her, is it? George was saying it could be bad when magic things don't work right."

"It's a simple Divination spell. One of the few that have actual merit, really. The worst that will happen should it fail is a garbled mess of information that means nothing," McGonagall reassured him. "Well, that and the pointless waste of a diamond."

"Oh. That's fine, then."

McGonagall nodded and withdrew her wand. Gesturing toward Angel, she requested, "Now dear, please lean forward so I can reach you."

"Don't wanna," was the immediate response. There was a wary look on the Familiar's face as she stared intently at the wand. "I don't like the bad magic."

Harry gave her a confused look and said, "What do you mean? It's not gonna hurt you."

"It hurt the things. It hurt lots of the things," Angel replied, still looking at the length of wood.

"Huh? Angel, that's not nice. Why would you say something like that?"

McGonagall examined the girl for several seconds, then sighed.

"Because, Mr. Potter, she is quite correct. My wand has indeed harmed many of 'the things,'" McGonagall answered. "By some standards, perhaps even by many, it could be considered a 'bad thing.'"

Harry slowly turned to give her a shocked and confused look.

"Oh, there's no need for that. My prior position involved solving problems for various communities on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards. Frequently those problems did not wish to be solved," McGonagall explained. "Magical beasts and cursed artifacts can get quite belligerent when asked to relocate."

"And peoples," Angel added quietly.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow and agreed, "And occasionally people. You can rest assured that they were only people of the very worst sort. I must admit, I'm quite curious as to how you know that..."

Angel shrugged, but didn't respond.

"Very well, then. Regardless of that, the registration must be completed. Mr. Potter, please order your Familiar to allow me to cast the spell on her."

"I just asked her to."

Nodding, McGonagall said, "Yes, but you did not **order** her to. It is all but impossible for a Familiar to refuse a direct order from her master."

Freezing, Harry looked across the desk with an expression of horror on his face. Somewhere in the back of his head he'd already pieced that bit together. It hadn't been hard, given the bits and pieces he'd heard about the Bond. Having it suddenly dragged out into the light, however, was a bit of a shock.

It took approximately 0.023 seconds to realize he really didn't like the idea.

He turned to his Familiar, only to discover she was now trying to split her wary stare between both him and the wand. The suspicious look didn't exactly warm his heart, and firmly cemented his opinion about ordering Familiars around.

Rather than do as McGonagall had requested, he reached out and awkwardly patted her head. He honestly had no idea what else to do, and she **was** just a big cat, right? So, as weird as it was, it was the closest thing to a good idea that he had.

Angel's gaze immediately softened, suggesting that it was, in fact, the right thing to do.

"Angel, would you please let Professor McGonagall use the spell on you?" he asked. "It's really important."

"But… But she said the magicks won't work, My Boy. Why do I have to let her do it if it won't work?" Angel pleaded. Turning to McGonagall, she asked, "They **won't** work, will they?"

McGonagall sighed.

"The chance of it functioning properly is almost nonexistent," she replied. "Unfortunately, the cogs of bureaucracy have little use for common sense."

"Please?" Harry asked hopefully.

Angel bit her lip and pouted, but turned away and leaned forward across the desk. McGonagall, whom clearly had no intention of letting her change her mind, brought her wand up. She gently tapped one of Angel's temples, slid her wand across the Familiar's forehead and tapped the other.

" _Libra_."

There was a sharp crack, like a quiet gunshot, that caused Angel to squeak in surprise and throw herself backward. The move was so violent that it slammed her into the chair hard enough to start it overbalancing backward.

Harry registered his Familiar's plight peripherally, and even noted that he should be helping, but he was far to interested in what was happening on the desk to do so. Besides, she was a cat. Cats land on their feet.

The diamond had exploded, becoming a cloud of incredibly fine, shining dust. It hung in the air for a moment, then started to swirl. Thin tendrils of the shining dust began to stream down towards the parchment. There was a burning smell as they touched, and thin scorch marks began appearing on the paper. Harry watched in fascination as the shining threads began to draw letters and sketch patterns.

The show ended a moment later.

"Ooh~, neat magic!" Angel declared, obviously impressed.

"See? I told you it was-" Harry cut off as he turned to face her.

Angel had obviously managed to stop herself from tumbling backward. She'd stopped herself at exactly the halfway point, as a matter of fact. Harry knew this because the chair was still half-toppled, positioned at a 45 degree angle on its back legs. The bouncy redhead was crouched atop it, feet on the back of the chair and elbows propped on the edge of the seat.

Harry very deliberately turned away, deciding to ignore the oddity.

On the other side of the desk, McGonagall made a disgusted sound.

"As I suspected, a complete waste," she muttered, dropping the paper back onto her desk.

Harry tentatively reached out and, seeing no objection from the witch, slid the paper across so he could take a look.

The top left quarter of the sheet was occupied by a rather nice picture of Angel in both her forms. Her human body was sprawled out sloppily in an armchair, which was most likely the only way she knew to use one. In her lap sat her cat form, fast asleep on her back in a position that looked very uncomfortable. Angel's red and black ribbon ran between them, circling the cat's neck and tying back her hair in one length.

The only thing wrong with it was that the whole thing was a hair on the blurry side. The edges were fuzzed to a barely noticeable degree.

The rest of the page was less impressive. Words were randomly scrawled, like someone had eaten a dictionary and thrown it up on the page. The mess was made even worse by the odd patterns drawn here and there across parchment.

Angel suddenly snatched the page away and held it up to the light.

"Ooh, I didn't know wands know the Other Place's words!" she said, clearly impressed.

"The other place's words? What do you mean?"

"Not the other place, silly My Boy. The Other Place," Angel clarified. She lowered the page enough for Harry to see it and tapped one of the strange patterns. "Khe'set Tai'n. The Other Place uses these to write."

Harry's lips moved as he tried to silently reproduce the words. It was pretty much a lost cause, as both contained sounds he was pretty sure him mouth couldn't actually make. Finally, he settled on asking, "Oh, so those are words? What do they say?"

Angel shook her head and scowled at the page.

"Nothing, My Boy. Where the words are in the big shapes is re~ally important, but all the words are in the wrong places. Some of them are even in the wrong shapes!"

"So it is useless even in that respect, not that it would have done us much good," McGonagall grumbled.

"So how do we find out what she is?"

Angel giggled, "Silly My Boy, I already know what I am. Why would I need someone to tell me?"

"And that is…?" McGonagall promoted.

"Shi'ai'u."

Harry winced at the sound of the word. That one had contained two completely different sounds he was pretty sure would twist his mouth apart if he tried to reproduce them.

"You realize that isn't very helpful, right?"

Shrugging, Angel replied, "The words don't change good at all, My Boy. 'Cute kitty' is kind of close, I guess. Or maybe 'cute kitten.' Kittens are the little ones, so that might be closer. Oh, I know! I'm a cutten!"

"And do 'cuttens' typically shred wood with their nails?" McGonagall asked blandly, studying the gouges Angel's fingernails were carving into the furniture.

"We~ll, not everyone likes cute. Some things even try to eat us! Can you imagine that, something trying to eat someone as cute as me? " the Familiar faux-gasped. "So we have scary claws. Most cuttens just have the little claws for the little scratches, but mine are big!" she finished proudly, brandishing said nails.

"They are indeed," McGonagall agreed, studying the cutten's hands. Her nails didn't even remotely resemble a human's. They were several centimeters long, very thick, and very slim. It also looked like they grew right out of her fingertips.

"Being big is good. It's easy to catch the fuzzy things and make them go crunch! Even the big things!"

"Crunch…?"

Angel grinned at Harry, displaying a mouthful of pointed teeth. She then opened wide, spreading her jaw just a bit wider than any human could, before slamming her mouth closed and saying, "Crunch."

Harry's complexion acquired a green tinge, a direct result of a vivid imagination.

"The big things are fun, but little fuzzy things crunch best!" Angel continued excitedly. "Oh! Are there little fuzzy things to crunch here, My Boy?"

Before Harry could respond, McGonagall said sharply, "There will be no crunching of fuzzy things here, young lady."

Angel paused, giving her a blank stare.

"That's you. It's still you," McGonagall sighed. "If I address someone as 'young lady' while speaking to you, it is safe to assume I am referring to you."

"Oh. Okay."

Images of the bottle of painkillers in her desk danced across McGonagall's mind.

"As I was saying, there will be no crunching in Hogwarts."

Angel started to open her mouth, but before she could speak Harry said, "That's where we are."

"Oh~. I knew that!"

"No you didn't."

"No I didn't," Angel immediately conceded. "Wait, why can't I crunch things?"

"Because any creature you come across within these walls is likely to be a Familiar or pet."

Harry added, "That means they're your friends. It's not nice to crunch friends."

"... if you say so, My Boy," Angel agreed doubtfully. "Can I still crunch things that aren't friends?"

Harry thought for a second, then shrugged. "I guess so. Only if you're really, really sure they're not friends."

"Yay! I love you, My Boy!" his Familiar cheered. Before Harry could react she reached out and grabbed him. He didn't even have time to shout in surprise before being hauled out of his chair and against her chest.

McGonagall watched with with mild amusement as Harry tried without success to escape Pillow Hell.

"While we are on the subject, I want to make it clear that I will not tolerate attacks against students or staff in the future," McGonagall said firmly. "There is to be no further incidents like the one involving Mr. Malfoy. Is that understood?"

"Okay!" Angel immediately agreed.

McGonagall sighed internally and decided that was probably good enough, despite the fact that the Familiar was clearly more concerned with preventing Harry's escape than listening.

Sometimes you just had to take what you could get.

"Good. Now, on to the next problem. Your clothes are just barely appropriate, and that is assuming you use a very loose definition of appropriate," McGonagall stated.

Giving her a confused look, Angel slid a nail between her top and chest, carefully pulling it back. It stretched improbable far, then snapped back with a sharp crack.

"What's wrong with the clothes?" she asked.

"They are far too tight and revealing. I was actually a bit curious as to how you managed to get into them, but seeing how far the material stretches…"

Angel nodded happily. "Wormskin is re~ally stretchy and strong. The worms don't like people taking it, so it's kinda rare. Most people get crunched if they try to get it," she explained. "It makes good armor and wearing it makes you look real tough, so a lotta people like it."

"Is that why you wear it? As some sort of trophy?" McGonagall asked curiously. "I'm assuming it's not for the armor value…"

"Nope. No one with a brain is impressed by something dumb like wormskin. Just people that think they're tougher than they are," Angel snickered. "That's why so many go crunch. I like it 'cuz it's easy to take with me when I'm a kitty. Si'rren yelled at me for leaving the clothes everywhere, so I started getting the wormskin."

McGonagall paused. She studied the Familiar carefully, hoping she had somehow misunderstood her.

"...if I am understanding correctly, you wear that because you have trouble bringing other clothing with you when you change forms. Is that correct?"

"Uh-huh. It's easier to bring things when they're tight and there isn't much. Wormskin is easy 'cuz it's re~ally tight and almost not there!"

McGonagall signed and rubbed her temples. "Nonetheless, wearing proper clothing is something you will need to get used to. I am afraid I will have to ask you to dress appropriately. You will simply have to be careful about changing forms, and not do so unless you are somewhere you will not be seen.

Angel tilted her head and looked at McGonagall hopefully.

"You want me to wear the right clothes?"

McGonagall sighed in relief, trying to force down the sudden wave of dread she felt. It seemed like this one, at least, understood. All of her sense were screaming at her that something was wrong, as the Familiar wasn't protesting at all - but it seemed like it would work out well, if only this once.

"Yes. I would greatly appreciate it."

"Okay!" she exclaimed happily. She grabbed the bottom of her halter top and pulled, wiggling as she tried to pull it up over her head. Given how tight it was, it seemed to be quite a laborious process. Harry was pretty sure he could **hear** her top being peeled away from her skin.

" **What are you doing!?** " McGonagall snapped.

Angel paused, the bottoms of her breasts just barely visible. "You said I should wear appropriate clothing."

"And how does that involve stripping in my office?"

The familiar gave her a bland look. "I'm a cat. Cats don't wear clothes."

McGonagall started. Her left eye developed a slight tic. It started off quite slow, but rapidly hit the point where it couldn't possibly be healthy.

The weight against her legs shifted as Ash pushed away. The large feline slunk out from behind the desk, rounding it and coming to a stop next to Angel's chair. The girl stared down at him curiously, the two cats seeming to size each other up. The staring contest stretched on for what seemed like a very long time, both Harry and McGonagall watching it curiously.

Finally, Ash shifted his weight and raised a paw. Angel, in response, leaned down and held out her hand, palm up. Ash's paw immediately descended, slapping the middle of her palm.

Harry blinked. He could safely say he'd never seen a cat high-five someone before. Well, technically it had been a low-five, but it probably still counted.

McGonagall, on the other hand, seemed quite a bit less impressed. She shot the pair a nasty glare that practically screamed, "We are not amused."

A faint "eep" escaped from Angel. She quickly twisted, instantly turning into an adorable kitten. Almost immediately, Ash's large jaws closed on the back of her neck. He hauled her out of the chair, spun, and dashed straight at the wall. Just before he hit it, a small hole - about the size of a doggy door - opened. The cougar vanished into the darkness with a confused kitten still dangling from his mouth.

Harry could practically hear the large cat screaming, "Get the hell out of Dodge!"

"Um… what just-"

McGonagall, once again massaging her temples, answered, "The tunnels. Hogwarts is full of them. No one is quite sure when they were made our by whom, but they allow Familiars to travel quickly around the castle."

 _And wander into places they have absolutely no place being,_ she added silently. On more than one occasion during her tenure it had taken a coordinated search of the castle to find a familiar that had gone too far off the beaten path.

Of course, most were eventually "found" in their master's common room, looking confused as to what all the ruckus was about. Your average small animal seemed remarkably good at unlosing itself once the whole castle had been searching for an hour.

"They are also quite useful when a familiar wants to avoid their master's wrath. **Temporarily** _._ "

"I- I see." Harry said nervously.

He'd never been so glad he wasn't a large cat before.

* * *

The Greengrass family valued objectivity and reasoning above all other things.

Emotions were, for the most part, just obstacles that got in the way of their research. Most members of the family viewed then as a vice, much like smoking or drinking were seen in other groups. They were something that you could enjoy occasionally so long as you kept it under control, but were ultimately unhealthy. Because of that, overindulgence was strongly frowned upon.

Daphne was overindulging.

She had, since shortly after her birth, been considered something of a prodigy. Among her family, that was saying something. She had taken to her lessons in control and objectivity like no one in the past two centuries. At ten years old she actually scared some of the weaker-willed members of the family.

Now it was like someone had shoved a red-hot poker straight into her brain.

She had anticipated a period of adjustment after her Summoning. There was almost always some emotional feedback that ran across the Bond. But this blew even her least favorable estimates straight out of the water, set them on fire, then ground then to dust.

Her Familiar was a bundle of pure rage.

Literally.

"I assume you know why you are here, Ms. Greengrass," McGonagall said. It wasn't a question this time, like with the others, but a simple statement.

McGonagall had little contact with the Greengrass outside of the social events that "everyone who's anyone" went to. They were one of the "questionable" families. Though they weren't exactly Dark, they still weren't Light enough for Albus. Because of that she was expected to stay away from them, and any interaction she had was subject to a great deal of scrutiny.

The Greengrass were one of the only reason she went to those blasted parties. They invariably ended up being massive nests of gossip and backstabbing. It still boggled her mind that you'd invite someone you disliked, and that they would attend even if they disliked you. It was probably because the McGonagall clan's blood had never been blue, but it was something she just couldn't comprehend.

Either way, social obligation said that, as a representative of Hogwarts, she had to greet every parent in attendance. Even better, it was a task that Albus was more than happy to leave to her. Every "Dark" or "Questionable" family she spoke to was one less he had to lower himself to conversing with.

While she didn't know them as well as some of the other families she wasn't supposed to interact with, she'd heard more than enough about Daphne specifically to assume she'd know exactly what the issue here was.

She wasn't disappointed.

"Him," the girl said simply, turning to face her new Familiar. "He's dangerous."

In more ways than one, actually. She could practically **feel** the fragment of her Familiar's soul pushing its way deep into her core. The frozen thoughts and feelings tried to bury it, freezing it solid and making it like them. Instead of doing the sensible thing and conceding to the greater power, it fought with surprising strength. Despite its diminutive nature, it was incredibly hard to suppress.

And even though she managed to contain it, it was still chewing at the edges of her mind. Things that had been wrapped up, frozen, then shoved into the back of her mind were melting, if only a tiny bit. They were things she had forgotten long ago, assuming they were discarded forever.

It was **his** fault.

Her new Familiar chuckled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and found it extremely amusing.

He was massive, his entire body covered in muscles that looked like they'd been forged from steel. It made him look more like a parody of a bodybuilder than an actual man. The skin stretched over them was tanned without an ounce of fat behind it and his arms - all six of them - were larger than a normal man's thighs. There was a set of three on each side, attached to a set of shoulders that somehow shared the limited real estate by his neck.

His short hair was a pure white, matching his eyes that had neither iris nor pupil. Despite their lack of typical detail, the flat white orbs somehow conveyed a sense of savage amusement. It was mocking and seemed to lack anything even approaching respect, a fact that was also demonstrated by the get he'd kicked up onto McGonagall's desk. He was leaning back in his chair and rocking slightly, grinding his held onto the wood. One set of arms had its hands folded behind his neck, a second set was crossed over his chest, and the third was hanging limply and swinging as the chair moved.

"Indeed," McGonagall agreed dryly. "Dangerous is one word for it. Your Familiar is an asura, a physical incarnation of the sin of Wrath. He-"

"The word 'sin' is a subjective classification that lacks merit," Daphne broke in. "An asura is nothing but an incarnation of hatred and rage. Both of those are equally worthless, accomplishing nothing except driving men to make the wrong decisions, but have far more value than a word like 'sin.'"

The asura laughed again and declared, "Ooh, I **like** ya!"

"Ms. Greengrass, I realize things are done differently in your family, but let me remind you that it is inappropriate to interrupt-"

The asura's chair hit the floor with a thud. An instant later on of his hands slammed into the ironwood desk hard enough to shake the floor and drive his fingers straight into the metal-hard surface.

"You just talk down to 'er!?" he demanded. "I ought ta rip yer skank head off!"

McGonagall calmly stared back into his eyes. She had to admit it was a bit unsettling to look into them from this close. Still not bad as that thorny hell, though. "I would appreciate it if you did not assault my desk again. I'm rather fond of it."

The familiar blinked. A second set of hands came down - quite a bit more gently - on either side of the first. He shifted his weight, leaning forward to get a better look at her face. Her desk creaked dangerously. A fifth hand came around to point at her from just inches away from her face.

"There somethin' wrong with ya? Ya oughta be pissing yerself in fear! Don't ya know what I am, **woman**?" he growled.

McGonagall sighed, as if a particularly dim student had asked her to explain the same thing for the twelth time.

"I believe we've already covered that, but I suppose humoring you won't hurt. You are an asura, a member of one of the seven species of conceptual incarnations know as the 'Embodiments of Sin,'" McGonagall stated blandly. "Your particular species is born of wrath, and are appropriately violent and unpredictable.'

"Nah," the asura disagreed. "We ain't violent. Yer all just a buncha pussies."

"The Embodiments of Sin are one of the few incarnations that can reliably be summoned. It's quite clear that you allow that to happen specifically so you may torment and kill," McGonagall continued. "I believe that could be considered violent. Incarnations of wrath, in particular, are known for bringing their fool summoners to a messy end."

The comment actually seemed to please the asura, at least to a degree. The fury Daphne had felt from him since they entered the office abated noticeably. There was another pained groan from the desk as he pushed off of it, straightening and placing all six hands on his hips.

"Messy ain't even half a' it. One a' my brothers yanked some dumbass summoner's arm right outta the socket and beat his sissy head in with it. Ironic, ain't it?"

"No," Daphne immediately answered. "It's not ironic at all."

"...it ain't?"

"No," Daphne repeated. "That's a complete misuse of the word."

McGonagall studied the asura as he looked down at his master with a confused expression. There was a faint smile on her lips as she watched him.

 _Oh, so that's the game._

McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing her companion's attention back where it belonged. Giving the asura a disapproving glare, she said, "Well, it certainly does seem like you live up to your reputation as a species of unreasoning, havoc-obsessed brutes."

The asura grinned, displaying a mouthful of jagged teeth. Not jagged like the vicious points in Angel's mouth, but more like every tooth had at some point been broken and reassembled poorly.

"Lady, ya don't even know th' half've it," he said proudly.

"I'm quite sure I don't," she agreed as she shifted her eyes back to Daphne. "It would be best if you named your Familiar and instructed him to behave. Asura are responsible for many atrocities, and it is quite likely he poses a danger to all in this castle."

The anger came back, fast and fierce enough to make Daphne gasp.

"Ya know, I **hate** that bullshit," the Asura spat. He slammed an open palm down on the poor, abused desk. "Yer th' assholes that call us, but we're th' monsters? We do **exactly** what you pricks **tell** us to do when we're here. We're perfectly happy beating th' piss outta each other. Yer the ones that open up th' door. **Yer** th' ones that tell us ta smash someone's head like a' grape 'cuz he said some words that hurt yer poor widdle feelings."

"Would you stop that!" Daphne snapped, her patience finally completely eroded by the anger surging through her. "You are being very rude to Professor McGonagall. **Sit down**!"

Daphne's familiar slammed down into his chair so hard the legs twisted and splintered. He sat there for a moment, stunned. It took a few seconds for him to shake it off, at which point he scratched his head and looked around, as if trying to figure out how he'd ended up there.

"Huh," he said.

McGonagall was feeling much the same, though she didn't voice it.

The Greengrass were trained to think the "right" way nearly from the time they were born. It was something she didn't really approve of, but even McGonagall had to admit it made them ideal students. The few she'd known had been so well-behaved that it was almost eerie, like they weren't human at all.

It was actually quite nice to see her acting like an angry child.

"While I certainly appreciate you reigning your Familiar in, I would suggest not using such a forceful command in the future. I'm not sure exactly how much more punishment my furniture can take."

Daphne, to Minerva's shock, actually blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry, professor. I don't know what I was…" Daphne trailed off as she noticed her Familiar was now leaning forward and studying her closely. "What?"

The asura chuckled. "Was getting worried there fer a sec, but you do got a li'l piss 'n vinegar after all, don'tcha?"

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about. Now, please just sit there and behave. I'd like to get back down to the dungeon at some point."

"Dungeon?" the asura asked, eyebrows raising in interest. "'s it th' **fun** kinda dungeon?"

"In your case I'm going to assume you mean the kind where you tear limbs off and bludgeon their former owners to death with them."

He gave his master a confused look. "'course I do. How th' hell else do ya have fun in a dungeon?"

"... don't ever ask me that again. That's an order."

"Whaddever ya say, Boss,"

"As interesting as this is, it would be best if we completed your Familiar's registration immediately, for the safety and welfare of our students and staff," McGonagall broke in. "Please-"

"Tch. 'Safety 'n welfare?'" the Familiar broke in. "Like yer one ta talk."

Raising an inquiring eyebrow, McGonagall began, "And what exactly does-"

Without warning, the asura let loose a savage yell and lunged forward across the desk. One pair of hands slammed into the surface, lifting him over it and finally snapping the abused furnishing's legs. The other four arms were stretched out, fingers cocked to grab the teacher and tear her head from her shoulders. Lines of burning white shot down his arms, like someone had poured molten metal straight into his veins, and the desk around his extended fingers sizzled with heat.

" **Sparkles**!" Daphne blurted out.

The asura - now Sparkles, apparently - froze in mid-lunge.

"Well, whaddaya know?" he said, chuckling quietly.

Her brain finally catching up to what had happened, Daphne's eyes widened in shock.

Sparkles had stopped with his hands still several inches away from McGonagall's neck, which was probably a good thing. Where the surface of the desk had been the dark grey of ironwood before, most of it was now the dull black of actual iron. Over a dozen metal rods - a few centimeters in diameter - protruded from the transformed surface. The four Sparkles had caught and hauled to a stop were glowing a faint red around the points of contact, while the rest had frozen at various distances from his head, neck and chest.

Each was tipped with a very nasty looking point.

"Heh," Sparkles chuckled. "Ya smell like a demon yerself, y'know? Bad as any a' my brothers. Figured you'd be good for a throw-down."

"You might not enjoy it as much as you think," McGonagall said blandly. She moved the hand resting on the surface on her desk, flexing her fingers and dragging them across the iron. The movement dragged the cuff of her sleeve up, revealing a glimpse of the complex pattern carved into her forearm. Faint sparks of light ran through the deep scars as the rods slowly pulled themselves back into the desk.

"Ya ain't known many asura, have ya?" Sparkles chuckled. He tilted his head, nodding toward the hand still laying on the desktop. "Ya been ready ta do that th' whole time, yeah?"

McGonagall shrugged dismissively. "I didn't reach this age by being careless or stupid, did I?"

Laughing, Sparkles dropped back into his chair, paying no heed to the splintering sound that came from the legs. "Woman, I **like** ya. We oughta knock each other 'round a bit sometime. 'm thinking it'd be a blast!"

"I'm afraid those days are behind me, Sparkles. The headmaster would be very displeased with me if I had 'fun' of that sort," McGonagall said.

It might have been Daphne's imagination, but there might have been the tiniest hint of regret in the professor's tone.

"Well 's a bitch, ain't it? Too bad, 'cuz…" the asura trailed off with a somewhat puzzled and put-off look on his face. "Hold up. The hell is a 'Sparkles?'"

This time it was McGonagall that chuckled. "That would be you, apparently. It would seem you've received your name."

Sparkles stared at her for several seconds, then slowly turned to face Daphne.

The young witch slowly turned a faint shade of red. If the had been in her normal frame of mind, she would have been ashamed of herself for giving in to the embarrassment. But, at the moment, she was absolutely mortified past the point of caring. She had reacted purely reflexively, based on emotion and panic, and had done something stupid. It was exactly the sort of thing she'd received years of training to avoid.

"Sparkles… Sparkles? **Seriously** , Sparkles!?"

Daphne, having recovered with admirable speed, gave him a cold stare.

"It was all I could think of quickly. It's your fault for forcing my hand by trying to murder the professor."

"Oh, come **on**! I was only gonna kill 'er a li'l! That's basically like saying hi!" Sparkles protested. "Why freakin' Sparkles 've all th' stupid things!? Why would'ja think a' that first!?"

"Sparkles was a stuffed unicorn. She was my favorite, right up until Mother took her away," Daphne explained. "It's an important name. You should be glad to have it."

"Yeah, 'm happy as a gremling 'n a plane factory," Sparkles grumbled. "'s pretty happy, just in case ya never met a gremling. Everyone just trembles 'n fear before Sparkles: destroyer of civilizations 'n entertainer of li'l girl's birthday parties. Pretty fucking sweet, yeah?"

McGonagall smiled faintly and agreed, "Indeed. I'm almost jealous."

"Ya should be. Just wait 'till I break out th' pink tutu an' start handing out th' shiny rainbow stickers. I'll see if I can find ya some right after I find my pride."

" **Okay** , I get it. You don't like the name."

Sparkles gave his master a shocked look. "Don't like it? Boss, why'dja think that? All I'm saying is that Spikey there prob'ly ain't getting a sticker anytime soon."

"A shame. I was so looking forward to one," McGonagall said blandly. Turning her gaze back toward Daphne, she continued. "And as for you, I know telling you to forget this happened entirely would be pointless. Instead, I must insist you do not talk about it to anyone outside of your family. I would appreciate it if you asked your mother to show the same discretion."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "Even had you asked it, I could not withhold this incident from Mother. I believe I am the first of my family to see the Iron Maiden's signature magic. My observations of the event may prove useful in the future."

"Hey, if 's people getting shanked you wanna see, Boss, I got ya covered. Hell, I'll do ya one better!" Sparkles said with a grin. "Ya wanna see how far ya can shove a guy's head up his own ass?"  
"...have you actually done that?" Daphne asked in disbelief.

"What's the problem? Lotta humans got 'em up there to begin with. I was just helping out. Making it a bit less figurative an' all. 's not like they wear signs, ya know? Good ta have th' warning."

"You are not to cause serious injury or permanent harm to anyone in this castle unless I grant you permission or they are a threat to me." Daphne said firmly. "That is an order."

"An interesting and well-thought order. Still… 'unless I grant you permission', Ms. Greengrass?" McGonagall asked with a arched eyebrow.

"I've been taught it is always wise to keep your options open," the girl stated. "It's not like I couldn't just countermand the order later, anyway. This just means it'll take less effort."

"Wait, you mean I can't hurt anyone? Are you being serious, Boss?" Sparkles said in disbelief. "Do you even understand what a freakin' Asura is?"

Daphne fought the urge to groan. It'd been **years** since she had to struggle to suppress a reaction like that, but this time she came very close escaping anyway. Sparkles' anger was like a giant mixer dropped into the formerly placid lake of her mind. Not only was it stirring the water itself up, but that frantic motion was dredging other unwanted feelings up off the lakebed.

"It was my understanding that completing the Bond made Familiars more human and calmed them significantly. When exactly is that supposed to happen?" Daphne asked.

McGonagall blinked at the girl in confusion. "It should have the moment you named him. Why?"

Daphne took a moment to contemplate her inner state. Sympathetic emotions were still whipping back and forth within her, feelings of anger and hatred chief among them. They seemed less intense or unpredictable than they had before.

She looked at Sparkles in confusion.

The Asura gave her a smug smile. "You're kidding, right? Me and my cousins - all of the Seven - come from **your** desires. You can't make us 'more human' because we're already 'bout as human as you can get. Hell, we're more human 'n you in some ways."

"And that means…?"

She got a grin in response. "Ya can't fight how I feel any more than ya humans can keep all th' dirty li'l thoughts outta their heads. Denial don't do anyone no good. Accept it an' control it an' I'm sure yer gonna be fine. Or maybe not, which just means more fun fer me," Sparkles chuckled.

"While we are on the subject of nasty little… things," McGonagall deadpanned, "I would greatly appreciate it if you would order your familiar to wear actual clothing."

Both Daphne and Sparkles looked down to consider the small, black speedo the Asura was wearing.

"Heh. Ain't nothing li'l going on there. Might be kinda nasty though, judging by th' itch. 'course, it could be 'cuz I was hanging out with th' crazy lust chicks 'fore I left. Ya end up with the weirdest itches," Sparkles muttered. "An' what the hell is wrong with my clothes?"

"You aren't wearing any." Daphne blandly observed.

"Hey, ya blind, Boss? Ya been whippin' it a li'l too much? 'course I'm wearing clothes. 's traditional asura formalwear, all the way," he declared, snapping the waistband of his tight, elastic speedos.

McGonagall was fighting the urge to slam her head into her desk. What in the world was it with Familiars and clothing?

"That may be so, but I believe traditional wizard garb would be more appropriate in this case. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Greengrass?"

"Yes, professor," Daphne agreed. Glancing at her familiar, she continued, "You will wear appropriate attire at all times."

Sparkles eyed McGonagall's thick robes dubiously. "If you say so, Boss."

"Why did you say it like that?" Daphne immediately demanded.

"Say what like what?"

"When you agreed. You sounded…"

"Oh. Well, 's like this, Boss..." Sparkles responded, giving a six-shouldered shrug. He held a hand out towards Daphne, extending his hand palm-up.

Curiously, she reached out to take it. An instant later she had to fight down the urge to gasp in shock. His hand was hot, far warmer than a human's. It was almost uncomfortable to hold.

Sparkles gave her a cocky grin. "Ya heard a' bein' hot under th' collar, right? Maybe felt a little warm when ya got pissed off real good?"

"What exactly are you implying?" McGonagall asked.

"Ya let an Asura warm up and we start feelin' good. 'course, feelin' good for me ain't exactly th' same as it is for ya," Sparkles' grin widened. "We start feelin' good an' we wanna have some **fun**. If ya think 'm feeling wound up now..."

"It gets worse?" Daphne asked, horror evident in her voice.

Sparkles chuckled. "It gets **better**."

"You are not to wear clothing. Ever." There was a slightly panicked edge to Daphne's order.

The Asura considered her for a moment, then gave another shrug. "Yer th' boss, Boss," He said agreeably. One pair of arms dropped to his waist.

"Except that!" Daphne quickly corrected.

"Y'know, Boss, I think I'm gonna like you." Sparkles chuckled. He tilted back in his chair and threw his feet back up on McGonagall's desk. "Bet yer all kinds a' fun when ya get fired up."

McGonagall watched with interest as he stretched and cracked all six sets of knuckles in succession, her curiosity momentarily overwhelming her annoyance. The familiar's shoulders had actually shifted to better accommodate his movements. The joints had quickly rearranged themselves, moving several inches to assume a different configuration. The Asura didn't even seem to be aware of it happening.

Some sort of inherent metamorphic magic, perhaps.

Sparkles, for his part, was laughing his ass off internally. It never ceased to amuse him how gullible humans could be. You could convince them of the stupidest crap sometimes.

Of course, in his case it was at least partially because they thought of asura as violent, unthinking brutes incapable of misdirection and manipulation. Given their love of smashing things, breaking bones and shoving heads up asses, it was a reasonable conclusion. After all, when you think of someone indulging in acts of hatred and anger, you picture them punching someone in the teeth with a brick.

But people tended to forget something important: changing your identity, befriending your hated enemy, gaining their trust over several years, becoming the center of their existence, then destroying their entire world in front of their disbelieving faces was also an act of wrath.

In other words, asura could be just as insidious and sly as any of their cousins.

But still, this was unbelievable. That had been pretty bad, even for something he'd just pulled out of his ass. It didn't even remotely qualify as 'subtle'. Seriously, asura got angrier when they warmed up? How the hell was that supposed to work? What part of it was even remotely believable?

In reality, he just didn't want to wear clothes.

His body was built to be an unstoppable engine of destruction. From head to toe, every inch of it was built for maximum devastation. Asura were all about anger and collateral damage, so anything that caused them was a work of art in their eyes. Basically, Asura found their own kind to be more beautiful than just about anything else.

What was the point of having a hot bod if you couldn't show it off?

Asura were, as a species, pretty vain. They got along quite well with their Pride-born cousins.

"Greengrass do not get fired up," Daphne said primly.

Sparkles rubbed his chin with one hand, while the fingers of another on the same side drummed on the desk.

"That a fact?" he asked, giving her a thoughtful look.

Daphne nodded and replied, "Yes, it is."

"Right. So, 'm getting that I gotta get fired up for both a' us. Sure ya how fun it is."

Hopefully quick, too.

Contrary to his claims, he could already feel the boss affecting him. Her presence was like a sliver of freezing cold driven straight into his core. A splinter made of liquid nitrogen sat neatly in a soul that raged like a burning sun. The coldness was already seeing into everything around it.

Here could only hope he was affecting the boss just as bad. Given how cold that little piece of her soul was, her insides must have been sculpted from pure ice. Having a piece of him in there couldn't be comfortable.

Sparkles chuckled.

He had no idea that answering that call would be so amusing. Even just being connected to the boss was a blast. Would he melt her first, or would she freeze him?

Either way, finding out would be fun.

* * *

"It seems you should have invested in a more durable desk, Professor," Blaise observed, eyeing the heavily damaged furniture critically.

McGonagall sighed as she examined the heavily damaged desk. To be fair, it had stood up to the asura's parting gift - a brutal overhead blow delivered by all six hands - better than most things would have

The sudden act of violence had startled and confused his new master, but the message was pretty clear to the deputy headmistress. Ironwood was aptly named, as it was as hard as the metal it took its name from.

The very same metal her transfigured bars were made of.

It wasn't all that hard to get the "subtle" message.

"It would appear so," she agreed. "I can't say I anticipated a need for durability enchantments on an ironwood desk."

Blaise nodded agreeably. "It always pays to be prepared. If you'd like, I could request a replacement desk, this one pre-enchanted. Given your relationship with mother, I'm certain she would offer it at a substantial discount."

"A tempting offer. I don't suppose it could be enchanted to punch back when assaulted?" McGonagall asked dryly.

Shrugging, Blaise replied, "A rather exotic enchantment, but there's little that can't be obtained for the right price. I'll ask mother to look into it."

"I wouldn't want to trouble her. I'm certain she's going to be quite busy finding a solution to your little… problem," McGonagall stated, eyes fixing on the side of his face.

There was a thin, mostly clear membrane covering the flesh. The substance was both a healing agent and painkiller, the result of a rather expensive salve used to treat frostbite. The flesh below it looked anything but health, being discolored, cracked and peeling.

"Yes, it is a bit of a problem. I must admit, I'd pay a great deal for an effective solution," Blaise said. Shaking his head, he turned to regard his "little problem."

Blaise's Familiar was seated next to him, poised in a chair that was rapidly acquiring a layer of frost. She was quite obviously paying not attention to the conversation. Instead, she was twisted around in the seat so she could stare at her master raptly.

Her skin was pale, even paler that Orchid's, to the point that it was actually white. There was also a faint blue tinge to it, like she'd spent far too long in the cold. A braid of frosty blue hair hung halfway down her ample chest. Oddly enough, it was actually tied in the front, hanging it a way that completely obscured almost half her face. Her single visible eye was a brilliant, crystalline blue.

The clothing she wore was enough to make McGonagall's hand twitch towards her drawer of painkillers. It was, technically speaking, a kimono. I use the word "technically" there because it looked like a cross between what you'd find in a high-end tailors and a costume from a sex shop. It technically covered everything that needed to be covered, but left a considerable amount of cleavage, thigh and hip visible.

 _Fuck it_ , McGonagall thought. _Close enough._

"I must admit, I hadn't considered what a hinderance having a hazardous Familiar would be. Having an unpleasant appearance can be quite detrimental in negotiation," Blaise muttered, touching his cheek. "Unless dealing with criminal elements, of course, but there are few of those in Hogwarts."

"I would certainly hope so. Speaking of which, should I bother to ask how you obtained that salve so quickly? I'm fairly sure you didn't bring it with you."

Blaise thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose you could, if you really wanted to. Mother considers such information to be quite valuable, though. I doubt you'd want to pay the price she'd extract."

"No doubt. I suppose I'll overlook it, since it seems necessary," McGonagall sighed. "Lord knows I would be hard-pressed to prevent such 'imports' from entering the castle."

"Your discretion is quite valuable to us. You can be assured that no items of questionable legality will enter the castle, from us or our competitors," Blaise stated pleasantly.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow and asked, "You have competitors?"

"It was more of a hypothetical statement. I suppose it is somewhat worthless, as such a situation is quite unlikely to arise. Most find that my mother is more than a match for them."

"Or they disappear," McGonagall said blandly. "Quite conveniently, as I understand."

"We have had a few lucky breaks in that area," Blaise readily agreed. "You never can tell when someone will abandon their assets to run off with a secretary. I certainly wouldn't want the penalties involved with my wife locating me in that situation. I'd most likely see the value in ensuring no one could find me at all."

McGonagall sighed (again) and resisted the urge to rub her temples.

It was **definitely** going to be one of those years.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

Funny story: this chapter has been done for months, but I just now got around to uploading it.

At least that means I'm several chapters ahead at this point, right?

Anyway, aside from trying to speed things up a bit, this chapter didn't change that much. I decided to add in Blaise / Snow just because, and some other little tidbits, but that's it.

So… I really don't have anything else to say about this one.

Hope you enjoyed it.


	8. Initiating Yuri

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Eight

"Initiating Yuri in 3… 2… 1... "

AKA

" **TASTE THE RAINBOW! BBLLAARRGG!** "

* * *

Line wards were probably the most pointless form of defense she'd ever come across. She honestly didn't know why mages even bothered with them.

They were exactly what they sounded like: a line of magic drawn between two points. They were easy to create and could be tied to a variety of nasty surprises, but were relatively easy circumvent. All you had to do was slip past one little line, after all.

A pit trap was easier and more effective.

There were three line wards drawn at the base of each wall. They were, somewhat surprisingly, layered in a way that would make it difficult to destroy or suppress one with tripping another. It showed good technique, and further reinforced her initial impression that this woman was dangerous.

It was almost a relief, really. Her initial impression had been that everyone in this world was worryingly soft and weak. The eavesdropping she'd done during the day and snooping afterward had done nothing to change that. So far, even among the adults, she'd only spotted a few that could survive a night outside the walls.

Not that this place had much in the way of walls. There weren't any guards or watchtowers either, or even bars on the windows to keep the smaller horrors from slipping in.

It was disconcerting.

Area wards were considerably more effective. Bound to a single surface, they were usually triggered by touch. Some were set to more unusual triggers, like being exposed to light or warmth, but those were rarer. Luckily, most area wards didn't trigger unless exposed to a certain amount of weight or surface contact to prevent false alarms.

That meant a small kitten didn't have to worry about her head exploding because she stepped on the wrong carpet.

There were three in the office: one on a rather large flagstone just inside the door, one on the carpet covering the majority of the floor, and one on a tapestry opposite the fireplace. That one was pretty clever. It was set to trigger if not enough light from the fireplace hit it. Anyone careless enough to blunder between the two would set it off in an instant.

Angel hopped up into the professor's chair, then onto the top of her desk. Positioning herself carefully, she changed into human form with a soft swishing sound.

Doing so around a volume ward would have been a problem, but that wasn't an issue here. The wards, as their name suggested, were created to monitor an entire space for intrusion. They were highly effective and hard to deal with, but were equally difficult and resource-intensive to set up. Without a clearly defined area, cornerstones and capstones they were far too inefficient to maintain. It seemed they weren't an option for the McGonagall woman, which was a good thing for her.

They could take hours to deal with if done right.

Unable to use a volume ward, the witch seemed intent to make up for it with point wards. They were almost always tied to small objects. Like area wards, they were set to trigger if the object was subject to certain stimuli. The most common trigger was the object moving a certain distance, but it could be any number of things.

They were **everywhere**.

Angel had never seen so many point wards in one place before. Most people would place them on a few valuable objects with the intent of protecting them specifically. They were rarely used as a primary protection, since hoping an invader moved the wrong quill wasn't the most reliable defense. Used like this, though…

The office had been trapped to the point of borderline insanity. Well over half of the small objects in the room had point wards bound to them. One careless movement or one thoughtless step would be enough to trigger one.

The tassel of a tapestry hanging just below the door frame would be impossible to avoid if you opened the portal. A few golden coins left in plain sight on the desk would draw the attention of any thief. A quill resting atop a stack of presumably important paperwork. A swinging pendulum, set to trigger if it changed speed. Something like a third of the books in the four large shelves behind the desk.

The list just went on and on and on. Dozens of weak wards used to form a frightening net of protection.

There was something important here that the witch was trying to protect. Judging by the time and thought that had gone into setting up the wards, it was very important indeed.

Whatever. Important it might be, but it wasn't what she was here for.

Angel eased herself around into a very awkward-looking position, half clinging to the side of the desk and half supporting herself on the chair. It put her in the shadow the furniture already threw against the shadow-triggered tapestry, though she had to watch the warded cushion. Easily holding herself in the odd stance, she studied the drawer.

At some point the desk had been seriously damaged, which helped immensely. Several wards on it had been deactivated, doubtless because they had been emitting false triggers like crazy. The drawer itself still had a point ward on it, as did two parts of the physical lock.

Annoying.

The witch was clever and was clearly well-learned in the area of magical security. The magic formed a tangled knot, the threads of each ward running back and forth through the others. Anything more than the faintest nudge would cause the whole thing to snag, triggering all three.

It took nearly an hour to redirect the wards to the drawer below.

Once that was done, the physical lock itself was pathetically ease to deal with. Either the locks here were borderline useless, or the witch put too much faith in her magical defenses. Whatever the case, it took less than two minutes of tampering to trip the mechanism.

Angel carefully slid the drawer open and looked inside. Luckily, there wasn't a single ward actually inside it. Even luckier, her target was still sitting right on top.

She carefully used the back of a nail to lift the sheet of vellum, then gripped it between her knuckles and withdrew it.

Her claws were such a pain in the ass sometimes.

At least this was important enough to make focusing relatively easy. It wouldn't do to accidentally shred everything because she wasn't paying enough attention. It was hard to be subtle when you left the furniture in six pieces.

That damn spell had been a lot more accurate than the witch had realized. The Khe'set Tai'n script was fragmented and muddled, making it somewhat like someone had taken a page written in English and removed one word out of ten at random. Despite that, it was still understandable.

It was also far too accurate.

The fact that so much of it had come out in Khe'set tai'n was odd, but a lucky break. She assumed that it was a combination of how different the languages were and the fact that nothing like her existed here. That meant, hopefully, that things like magical translations wouldn't work either. It seemed like mages in this world were far more focused on utility magic than combat magic, though, so who knew how advanced their translation spells were.

It was too much of a risk to leave be.

The sketch of her that filled a quarter of the page was beautiful. It was the sort of thing you'd see hanging in a noble's home, detailed and carefully composed to bring out every bit of the subject's beauty. It had been a long, long time since she'd had a picture like that.

She traced the sketched ribbon with the back of a nail, lingering on the bell hanging from her hair and neck at each end. It seemed like a waste to simply destroy it.

She quickly ran a nail along the borders of the image, neatly separating it from the rest of the page. The sharpened edge of her claw didn't make so much of a whisper of a sound as she did. Quickly folding it and shoving it into her top, she crumpled the rest of the page and lobbed it into the fireplace.

Replacing the wards on the drawer took far less time than redirecting them. The threads of magic were always happy to snap back into their proper positions.

There was a faint sound as she returned to her cat form, then a scrape as she vanished back into the Familiar tunnels.

In the fireplace, the last bits of vellum turned to ash.

* * *

Orchid quietly climbed up the side of the Great Tower.

Being a spirit possessing a mass of plant, climbing was a bit different for an alura une. Her entire body had unravelled, leaving nothing but a tangle of thin branches. The slowly made their way up the wall, growing up cracks and into cracks. Anyone watching - had there been anyone watching - would have been equal parts horrified and mesmerised by the mass of leaves, wood and wicked thorns as it made its way up the wall.

After the better part of an hour, she finally reached the Owlery roof. Her form grew around the edge of the rooftop and twisted together atop the tiles. Quickly and silently, she went to work forming her human body.

She wasn't exactly sure why, but she'd been feeling extremely comfortable in that form since coming here. Before it had just been a way to lure food in or move among humans undetected, like an angler fish's lantern or a well-made disguise. Now, however, it felt quite natural. It seemed like the best shape to be in, aside from being wrapped around her Keeper.

Her target sat on the far edge of the roof, swinging her feet over the edge. Her long mane of hair was spread out behind her, its ribbon failing, spectacularly, at keeping it in check. The other Familiar was staring up at the half moon as she sat there, humming a eerily beautiful tune.

She was oblivious to the alura une's presence.

Orchid extended her arm to one side, then watched in interest as it split open. Truth be told, she'd never paid all that much attention to her human limbs before. The sight of it tearing itself apart was both impressive and awe-inspiring, if she did say so herself. It only became more remarkable as a trio of thick, pointed sticks grew within her splayed forearm.

She'd used this trick quite a few times before, usually when she was bored. It was a fun way to knock birds out of the sky, and sometimes chewing on something a little different was nice. One sharp snap of her vines and those stakes would be moving far faster than any crossbow bolt.

Orchid twisted her body in a way no human could, her torso ripping and parting to accommodate the movement. Her arm likewise distorted even more, stretching out behind her. There was no way she'd miss at this range, and the poison on the stakes would-

"You shouldn't do that, sneaky flower," Angel suddenly said.

The alura une froze.

"You shouldn't poison things if you want to do the sneaking. It smells," Angel said, making a disgusted face, but not turning around. "You were slow. I was waiting and waiting and waiting. I even went somewhere dark with no one around, and I still had to wait. Do sneaky flowers need invitations?"

Twisting, Orchid brought the wooden spikes around. There was a sharp snap as the end of her vines broke the sound barrier more effectively than a whip. The wood projectiles were a blur as they flew, even to her. The other Familiar was-

A spray of wooden shrapnel pelted Orchid across the face and chest, hitting hard enough to shred her exterior. She flailed backward, the disorientation of having her human sensory organs suddenly destroyed staggering her. Her exterior was just a shell, though, and she repaired it in an instant, reforming her eyes and ears at the same time.

She discovered herself staring straight into a pair of amber, slitted eyes from less than ten centimeters away.

"That wasn't very nice, naughty flower," Angel said softly. She ran the tip of a nail down Orchid's cheek, opening a small cut.

Orchid's eyes widened.

It hurt.

It actually **hurt**!

The spirit hurled herself backward, launching off the roof. She unraveled to catch the eaves, then hurled herself into the Owlery. The birds, suddenly finding a truly frightening predator in their midst, panicked and abandoned their perches. The mass of fleeing avians was enough to confuse even Orchid's normal senses, the heat and vibrations she used as a plant.

When the birds finally cleared the area, she immediately discovered Angel crouching on the sill of the window she'd just entered. Orchid immediately leapt back, twisting her body apart. Thick, barbed branches exploded out of her, curling around in every direction. A moment later her body reformed, now surrounded in a cage of thorns that filled half the room.

She glared at the other Familiar, daring her to approach.

"Uh-uh, silly flower. I'm not as stupid as I am," Angel declared, then pause to ponder the statement. "That… didn't make lots of sense, did it?"

Inside her wooden death-cage, Orchid shook her head.

"I'm not very strong, silly flower, and I don't like getting the poison pokes," Angel clarified. "So no pokes for me. Why're you being mean, mean flower?"

 _One._

"There can be only one!? Oh noes!" Angel gasped. Her shocked look only lasted an instant before vanishing. The sudden change was accompanied by the word, "Why?"

Orchid gave her a mildly confused look.

"Why can there only be one of us? That's silly."

 _Mine._

"Ugh. Fighting over places just to have the places is so~ dumb. There's no mists here, and the trees aren't scary. There's lots of stuff for everyone to have," Angel declared. "I don't think you wanna fight, anyway. That's why you tried to be all sneaky. You're not real strong, either."

Orchid fixed her with a nasty glare, the thorns of her cage lengthening and dripping a greasy fluid.

"Did coming here give you the sicks, too? It made me feel all icky. You shouldn't fight while you're sick. It's not good for you."

Still glaring, Orchid replied, _Strong_. _Prey._

"Really? If you're all strong and stuff, why didn't you bring your heart?" Angel asked curiously.

Orchid froze.

"You really shouldn't do that. Where'd you leave it, hmm? I know it's close, I can smell it," Angel said softly. "At the bottom of the tower, maybe?"

Eyes widening, Orchid took half a step back.

"I'm fast, silly flower. Faster than you, I think. Even if you scratched me, I'm sure I could get to your heart before I died," Angel continued in a low, dark tone. "Then we'd both be dead, and our masters would be alone. That's not good for anyone, is it?"

The alura une slowly shook her head. She was far enough from her core that moving it would be difficult. Having seen how quickly the cat could move, she had little doubt the threat was a serious one.

"Then we should be friends!" Angel suddenly declared, her voice once again the normal energetic, cutesy tone.

Orchid blinked in surprise, clearly a bit thrown by the sudden change.

 _Friends…?_

"Uh-huh. Fighting is dumb and friends can share things. That's why it's better to be friends than fight! This place can be **our** place, even though it's really the people's place," Angel reasoned.

…

"I know nom-nom plants don't really have friends, but you're not just a nom-nom plant. You have some peoples in you."

 _Food._

"Uh… no, not like that. I mean you don't have to just act like the nom-nom plant. You can do human things, too. LIke have friends," Angel said happily. Then, in the same cheerful tone, she added, "Or we can just kill each other. I guess that works too."

Orchid thought for a long moment, then conceded, _Friends._

She could always wait until the cat was off guard and eat her then.

Without warning, Angel took several steps forward. Orchid's eyes widened in shock as the other Familiar walked straight into her cage of thorns. The word 'friends' for some reason still stuck in her head, she jerked her thorns back reflexively. Even with her quick withdrawal, she barely managed to disarm her cage before Angel blundered right into it.

The redhead reached up to Orchid's face and carefully traced a line down her cheek with the back of one claw. It was the exact spot she'd been cut just moments before.

"I'm sorry I cut you, Flower. It wasn't a very nice thing to do," Angel apologized. Cupping the smaller Familiar's cheek, she pressed her forehead against Orchid's. "I promise I won't do it again. Forgive me?"

Orchid nodded numbly.

As it turned out, plants actually **could** get hot. At least, Orchid's cheek certainly could. It almost burned where Angel had laid her hand, but not in an unpleasant way. It was actually quite nice, something she didn't mind at all.

Was this how humans felt things? If it was, she had to admit she was quite envious. It was much better than being full or not full, or even the crunch of bones being crushed in her bloom.

Suddenly eating Angel didn't seem like such an attractive idea. She still looked delicious, sure, but just the thought of crushing her made Orchid feel a bit…

Sad, maybe?

So, Orchid's first real experience with human emotions came in the form of a very affectionate gesture from her fellow Familiar. There's no way that could have long-term and possibly embarrassing implications, right?

Right.

* * *

If you don't know what yuri is, please Google it. Just make sure you have safesearch off, otherwise you won't get the full effect.

* * *

In the Forbidden Forest, something stirred.

It was dark, so dark that even the black of night seemed bright in comparison. With no muscle or bone, it barely had a cohesive form of its own. It was little more than a blob of the deepest shadow the world had ever seen.

If fear and evil could be given physical form, this was what they'd look like.

Until now there had been only the desire to consume and destroy. All it had ever wanted was to devour the bodies of mortal creatures and tear their souls to shreds over the course of eons. It had been a simple existence, with nothing but the simple need to eat and torture all that exists.

Now it felt something new.

It had felt pain.

That was something for which it was completely unprepared. It might have only been a minor horror, little more than a faint shiver of far compared to others, but the idea of a mortal **hurting** it was absurd. They were supposed to be weak and pathetic, nothing but food. The idea of one damaging its being, especially by simply hitting it, was absurd.

It, a being of pure terror, had felt fear.

The other creature it had felt possessed a brightness burning with their mortal forms. It was a brilliant flame, similar to that within the creature that had hurt it. It was the same light that had filled the painful blow, burning it. Each was relatively weak, pathetic enough that many of its kind would snuff it in an instant, but bright enough that it would take considerable effort for it to silence even one.

But above all, it felt anger and hatred.

The small creature wrapped in its grip let out another pained gasp as its body was finally crushed. The light of its life was tiny, barely even a spark, but it was better than nothing. In snuffing it out, the horror's own darkness grew. It was only by the smallest amount, barely even enough to be noticable.

It was sufficient, though.

The horror had come from beyond the far reaches of time. Hours, days, years or even centuries, none of them had the slightest bit of meaning to it. It would simply wait, choosing its victims carefully. It would never approach something that could harm it again. Each life it devoured would cause its darkness to grow, adding to its strength. Eventually, it would be strong enough.

There was nowhere in this mortal realm that could hide them from it.

* * *

Harry awoke to darkness.

It took just a fraction of a second for his brain to realize there was an issue and relay the message to the rest of him. After taking a moment to register the problem, the rest of him decided it was a critical one indeed. Breathing seemed to be completely beyond him at the moment, and both his brain and the rest of him agreed that was a bad thing. With mutual agreement, they flipped the switch to plunge him into DEFCON 3.

The young wizard let out a strangled gasp into Angel's chest.

The position would have been quite comfortable under other circumstances. Angel's chest was, for reasons that should be quite obvious, quite soft and warm. Unfortunately, there wasn't much more air in there than you would expect to find in Lady's.

Soft and warm was great, but not so much when your face was being pulled into it with an impressive amount of force.

In a panic, Harry twisted awkwardly and managed to get his arms between himself and Angel. Gathering himself, he shoved against her with all his might. The scrawny teen's herculean effort was mighty enough to impress an emaciated puppy, and accomplished about as much as you'd expect. It was like steel cords were wrapped around his body, lashing him to his Familiar.

Amazingly, the steel cords pulled tighter in reaction to his attempts at escape. What little air he had in his lungs was promptly squeezed out.

 _So this is how it ends,_ Harry thought hazily. _At least I got to be a wizard for two days. Of course, I also saw a *shudder* dog with a face. That kind of cancels out the wizard thing. I made some friends, though. I think. Goodbye, cruel world. My final wish is that the Dursleys die in a fire. A very, very slow fire that starts at the toes. Please have mercy and grant-_

Angel giggled, "Waffles," in her sleep and rolled over. In the process, her arms released Harry and slipped away from his body.

His panicked mind immediately registered this as a classic good news / bad news situation. On the good end of things, Harry was suddenly able to breath again. Considerably less than good was the fact that he was still shoving against his Familiar as hard as he could. In an instant, pushing away from her went from impossible to far too easy.

Harry shoved himself straight off the bed.

An already bad situation was further complicated by the fact that Angel's legs were, somehow, still wrapped around his own. This caused his top and bottom halves to have a bit of a disagreement as to where he should be. With his hips saying "bed" and his torso saying "floor," he was left in the undesirable position of trying to fulfill both demands. Gravity was on the torso's side, however, and he ended up slamming into the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him, then sliding the rest of the way off the bed as Angel muttered in discomfort and released him.

"Ouch," Harry groaned. "The world is agony given form…"

"Is that you, Harry?" Neville's voice asked. "Are you okay?"

"My face had a disagreement with the floor, but I think I won," Harry replied. "I didn't hurt my spleen and everyone knows you're okay as long as you have your spleen. That's how I won. I have more spleens than the floor."

"Uh… how hard did you hit the floor? Are you sure you're okay? Because you're talking kind of weird."

"Hmm… My head's all fuzzy. I don't know if that's hypoxia, tasting the floor or part of a vast shrubbery conspiracy. Could be any one of them, really."

"Maybe… maybe I should take you to the Hospital Wing." Neville muttered. "You're going to have to help me get out of bed first, though."

Harry tried to shake some of the cobwebs out of his head. Unfortunately, it seemed like some of them intended to be long-term residents. It was annoying, but it wasn't exactly something he was unfamiliar with. The past two days had been rough, but he'd certainly had it rougher.

Maybe.

Shakily rounding his bed, he asked, "Why in the world would you need help getting up? Can't y-"

Neville's bed looked like someone had picked up a small hunk of jungle and dropped it in the middle of the dorm. A dozen different varieties of flowers had bloomed all over. Creepers wound around the posts so thick that he could barely see the wood beneath. The curtains were completely gone, replaced with heavy drapes made entirely of vines and leaves. Thick, root-like growths had made an absolute wreck of the top, tearing holes as they wound their way through it. As for the mattress…

The mattress of the bed had become a tangled mass of assorted plant parts. It looked like someone had once had a nice, little garden, but had neglected it until it had become hopelessly overrun. Harry could see a toe here, a finger there, something that might be part of a neck up here…

Making sense of the mess was just hopeless, so he settled for leaning forward and meeting the gaze of the one eye he could see.

"Neville? Is that you under there?" Harry asked curiously.

There was a groan. "Who else would it be, Harry? Could you do me a favor and get me out of here?"

"Did the daisies do this to you? Did they sneak in while you were sleeping? They do that, you know," Harry whispered conspiratorially.

Neville stared at him. "Merlin, you did hit pretty hard… It's Orchid, Harry. Obviously."

"Oh, good. For a moment I thought the End Times were upon us."

"Uh, yeah. We should _really_ get to the Hospital Wing."

"No, no. I'm good. My brain is breathing again. It's all tingly. It feels kind of nice." Harry announced. "You know, I've never been suffocated before. I give it a two out of ten. As far as near-death experiences go, it was sadly lacking."

"Look, just get me out of here. I really need to use the loo."

Harry narrowed his eyes and stared into Neville's visible orb. "I thought you wanted to bring me to the Hospital wing."

"I want to use the loo _and_ bring you to the Hospital wing. I'd be best if we did it in that order, too." Neville said reasonably. "It's not like we can't do both."

"Right. So, you're sure that's your familiar? I mean…I guess you'd know, but she looked a lot more girl-like earlier." Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I remember because you said she was a plant, but she didn't really look much like a plant. I figured you'd just gotten into that butt beer the twins had."

"It's butterbeer, and Orchid's an alura une. They only look like girls so it's easier for them to eat people."

"Oh. That seems reasonable." Harry nodded. That one statement vindicated every suspicious though he'd had since had had become enlightened two days ago. "So, if she's your Familiar, why don't you tell her to let you up?"

Neville sighed. "I already tried that. I think she's asleep or something."

Scratching his head, Harry said, "She's asleep? I didn't even know plants could be asleep."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know that plants could be hot, either. But apparently they can, so I guess they can be asleep, too."

"She gets hot?"

"No. No she doesn't. She meant-" Neville paused. "Look, nevermind that. Just get me outta here. All you have to do is untangle me."

Harry regarded the mass of greenery dubiously. "Neville, you look like a vine mummy. You look **worse** than a vine mummy. You look like someone made a vine mummy out of a vine mummy. You might even exist in a dimension that transcends the pathetic mortal limitation of existing in three dimensions," Harry declared, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Neville?"

"...what?"

"Congratulations on ascending. I am honored to be in your presence."

"...please, please, please just get me out…"

"Fine. If you want to fall from grace and sacrifice your higher existence, I won't stop you," Harry said reluctantly. "I'm pretty sure I saw the Adder somewhere around here. I'll see if I can borrow his mugging knife. I don't think you can mug a plant, but I guess I could cut you out."

Neville shook his head, or tried to, at least,"I don't want you to do that, Harry. You'll hurt her… I think? Cutting things usually hurts them, so I'm just going to assume it would hurt her. She's my Familiar, even if she tied me all up and made me a vine mummy of a vine mummy."

"That's okay. It just occurred to me that cutting something made of thorns, poison and pain might not be the best idea I ever came up with," Harry admitted. "It's time to go to Plan B. I'll be right back. I have to find a crowbar, twelve liters of Vaseline, and a rubber ducky. Maybe a squirrel or two, just in case."

A dozen questions went through Neville's head at that moment. So many, in fact, that he couldn't possibly ask them all. Eventually he went with, "Harry? Why would you need squirrels?"

"I hope to God I don't, Neville. Some atrocities can never be forgiven. Never, Neville. They remain in your soul like an ink spill on a lilac-colored pillow case."

"Maybe you should just go take a shower or something," Neville suggested. "And walk to the Hospital Wing if it clears your head up. I'll figure something out."

"Shower… shower…" Harry's eyes widened as a brilliant idea popped into his mind. "Neville! I have an idea!"  
"No, Harry," Neville immediately said.

"I saw it in one of the magazines Dudley keeps under his mattress."

"No, Harry."

"They call it a golden-"

"Harry! No!" Neville yelled. "That's awful!"

Harry gave his fellow first-year a confused look. "But Neville, she's a plant. Plants like water. Besides, the girls in the magazine didn't seem to mind."

"I'm starting to wonder how much I like you…"

"FIne. So Plan A ends with me being eaten, Plan B has been aborted due to lack of supplies - rodents specifically - and you pointlessly refuse to go with Plan C." Harry rattled off. "I'm stumped, so unless you have a Plan E, we're out of luck."

"I… think I'll just hold it until my bladder explodes…" Neville whimpered.

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he gasped, "Plan Q!? Neville, you're insane!"

"...just go take a shower, Harry."

"I think I'll take a shower. Great ideas like that are why I'm a genius, and an excellent forensicer. Don't worry, Neville, I'll be back before the midgets show up. I promise," Harry said.

He exited the first-year dorms. He only made it a few steps before his foot bumped into something soft. He gasped and stumbled, trying fruitlessly to regain his balance. This caused him to cross the landing much faster than he'd planned to. Luckily for his poor brain, he managed to raise a hand and slap it against the stone wall just inches before his face slammed into it.

He whirled around, actually a little angry now. Who in the world just dropped something right outside the door!? You couldn't just leave a… fox…

The small Weasley familiar stared up at him, giving him a wounded look..

"Oh! I'm sorry." Harry exclaimed. "Are Ru okay?"

The fox stared harder.

"See, it's funny because your name is Ru and 'Ru' sounds like 'you' so it…" Harry trailed off. "Yeah, that really not funny, is it?"

Ru shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I kind of hit my head. I was just going to take a shower. That usually helps, so I'll be okay in a few minutes. I usually shake it off pretty quick."

Harry had glanced across the landing towards the entrance to the bathroom, so he missed the brief change in the fox's eyes. By the time he looked back, she was again staring up at him curiously.

"So… I'm just going to-"

Without warning, the vulpine familiar whipped up his body. She quickly occupied his shoulder, sitting on her new perch proudly.

Harry stared at her. "Uh… Ru, you know I'm going to take a shower, right?"

The fox gave him a look that quite clearly said, "I'm not stupid" and didn't budge.

After staring at her for a few more moments, Harry shook his head. "Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter. If you want to come, go ahead. You're just a fox, after all."

A white tail slammed hard into the back of his head. Well, it slammed into his head about as hard as six inches of snowy poof could manage. That wasn't particularly hard. In fact, it tickled more than anything.

"Hey! I didn't mean it like that!" Harry protested. "I just meant… You know what? I'm just gonna go to the bathroom. With a fox. For some reason."

The tower was set up in a surprisingly reasonable and logical way. On the first floor of it was the common room. It was a rather pleasant place with large, squishy furniture and a roaring fire. It was also quite a bit larger than it had any right to be, like the room had been stretched out in that way Harry tried not to think about. There was a pair of wide spiral staircases on the wall opposite the entrance, winding up to the higher floors.

Each floor above the common room housed a single year of students. Two dorms full of girls on one side, two of boys on the other and a thick wall splitting the tower down the middle. Every other floor had a bathroom that was shared by two years of students. The only exception was the bottom floor of dorms, where the seventh years had their own private loo.

Harry unsteadily made his way down the stairs to the second-year dorms and made his way into the bathroom.

It was a pretty standard affair. The stalls, urinals and accompanying sinks were, thankfully, very mundane. Harry, however, was more interested in the showers in the far wall. They were deep, dual-partitioned nooks, providing both a small area to strip in and and equally small shower area.

"Alright, the Harry Express stops here. I'm pretty sure I don't need a fox's help to shower." he announced.

Ru dug her claws in and stared at him defiantly.

Harry stared right back. "If you come in there with me, I'm using you as a bath pouf." he calmly declared.

His companion's look changed from one of defiance to horrified disbelief.

"I'll do it. Don't think I won't. I'm crazy. But look at the bright side: your coat will get a nice shampooing."

The fox hopped down to the floor, where it proceeded to give him a hurt look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. When I'm done, you can come down to the common room with me. I want to look at some of my books before classes start."

Deciding it was probably best to ignore the fox, he quickly turned and entered on of the shower nooks. He had been really glad to see they were set up like this. It afforded a high degree of privacy, and even gave him somewhere to change.

That was a good thing, too. He didn't particularly want to field any of **those** sorts of questions. The longer he could put it off, the better. With any luck he'd never have to answer them at all.

That was unlikely.

Harry had to admit, grudgingly, that the chances of not ending up naked in front of his Familiar were low. He didn't know how it would happen or why. He had the sneaking suspicion that whatever the how and why were, the when and where would involve extreme embarrassment. He was almost certain that whatever happened, it would somehow be her fault.

Thankfully, the cold water did actually clear his head a bit. He had to admit, the experience have him a new respect for Fred. It was amazing the redhead functioned as well as he did, given the nasty blows he frequently took.

A faint noise from somewhere above him made him pause with his shirt only half over his head. Struggling the rest of the way into the garment, he turned to observe Ru. The tiny fox was standing balanced on the curtain rod separating his nook from the rest of the room, looking down at him.

She had fixed him with a disturbing intense gaze, leading him to wonder how long she'd been up there and what exactly she had been looking at.

"Are you a pervert?" Harry suddenly asked.

The question caught Ru so off-guard that she jumped in surprise. Not a very smart thing to do when you were perched on a bar just a few centimeters wide. She scrambled at the bar in a panic for a moment, then plummeted toward the floor.

Harry's hand shot out and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, easily catching her before her brief flight ended badly. Holding her up to eye level, he gave the vulpine a suspicious look.

"What kind of fox watches people change, huh? A perverted one," he accused. "They have a word for people who watch little boys get naked. I'm pretty sure it starts with the letter 'twenty-to-thirty-years' and ends with a very uncomfortable experience in the prison showers."

Ru struggled and twisted out of his grip. Whipping around his arm, she scaled the limb to take up a fairly normal position on his shoulder. This time, however, she smacked his back with a paw and have him a look that clearly demanded, "What the fuck?"

Harry was starting to wonder if reading animal expressions was some kind of secret talent.

"Oh. That," he sighed.

Figures. He'd already blown it, and was outed by a fox of all things. At least he didn't have to worry about loose lips, since she didn't have lips at all.

Harry tugged down the collar of his shirt, displaying a nasty scar starting in the backside of his shoulder and running down his back.

"It's not as bad as it looks. It's really old, too, so it doesn't bother me anymore."

The fox examined the scar through narrowed eyes. It was a very, very odd place for someone to end up with a burn. Turning back to Harry, she gave him an inquiring look.

"A couple of years ago, I burned Uncle Vernon's bacon at breakfast. He got really mad and threw the pan at me. It was really hot and there was still grease in it, so it burned me a little. So- Ow!"

Harry yelped in surprise and reflexively dislodged the fox as her tiny claws dug into his shoulder.

"What'd you do that for?" Harry demanded..

The fox paused for a moment, then gave him an apologetic look and made an exaggerated sneezing sound.

"You sneezed?" Harry asked suspiciously. "It didn't sound like you sneezed."

Ru made the sneezing motion again, this time without the accompanying sound.

Harry sighed.

"I think all Familiars are insane. What've you got to say to that, huh?"

Ru thought for a moment, then nodded happily.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna say that. C'mon," he said, patting his shoulder. "Let's go. I need to get my books."

Needing no further invitation, Ru quickly ran up his body and took a seat.

"What're you doing wandering around at night, anyway? Shouldn't you be with one of the twins?" Harry asked as they climbed the stairs. With the first-year forms being on the top floor, he was sure to be doing a lot of that.

In response Ru went limp on his shoulder, head and tail hanging off either side. Tongue lolling out of her mouth, she made a snoring sound.

"Oh. Of course. Well, I can be your substitute wizard for now. I could use a substitute Familiar anyway. Mine seems to be in power-saving mode. See?"

Harry drew back the curtain surrounding his bed to reveal Angel. Almost immediately, he went pale.

Sticking out from between Angel's breasts was the head of a snake. There was terrified, a wide-eyed look of horror on his face as he sat stuck between them. He had clearly tried to escape at one point, judging by the switchblade laying on the mattress. He had just as obviously failed, as evidenced by the fact that said switchblade was now in several pieces. Now Angel had her arms crossed across her chest, squeezing her ample bosom together tight enough to render escape completely impossible. The way he was wedged in there, there wasn't even a good way for him to bite her.

The Adder slowly turned to look at Harry.

 _Kid… Help…_

Harry studied the situation critically, attempting to come up with a satisfactory plan. Unfortunately, even his legendary planning skills weren't up to the challenge. There was literally no way to free the Adder without getting within reach of his Familiar.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen if he did.

Harry slowly raise his hands into a praying position and bowed his head. On his shoulder, Ru did the same.

"Thank you for your sacrifice, noble Adder. Tales of your bravery shall be told for centuries."

His respects paid, Harry quickly grabbed his books and headed for the door.

 _Hey! Hey, don't you walk away, Kid! Don't you- Oh, come on! Seriously? Please, by the snake god's dual cocks, help me! I'll up your cut to 20%! Hell, make it 25%- Kid? Come back!_

"Alas, poor Adder. I knew him, Ru," Harry whispered as he left the dorm.

* * *

As Harry exited the dorm, one of Angel's eyes opened just a crack. For a moment it fixed on Harry's shoulder, tracking it as he vanished through the door. The expression on her face was anything but pleased.

That wouldn't do at all.

Squeezing her chest tighter, she rolled over.

 _Oh, what the f- Ack!_

"Silly snakey," she muttered in her 'sleep,' giggling slightly.

* * *

 _Why? Because the kid's sad. He's been sad all morning,_ the Adder hissed. _You don't want him to be sad, do you?_

Angel thought for a moment, then replied, _No sad._

Rolling his eyes, the Adder let out a low hiss of exasperation. He really, really wished other animals would figure out how to talk like intelligent creatures. The language they used - a mixture of sounds, scents and movements - worked to a point, but it wasn't nearly as advanced as the Assorted Speech of Serpents (AKA ASS). It got the general idea across, but wasn't precise and wasn't capable of getting complex ideas across.

The only other creatures that had a similarly complex language were ravens and crows, and who the hell wanted to talk to birds?

Fighting down his annoyance at the ignorance of other animals' ignorance, the Adder continued, _See? You need to cheer him up, then. That's part of your job. So, as a leading expert on the behavior and habits of the inferior beings cluttering up the planet, I'm telling you that's the best way to do it._

Angel continued to look at the snake uncertainty.

 _Look, people like hugs, right?_

The cat nodded in agreement.

 _And people_ _ **really**_ _like kitties, right?_

The question was met with an even more enthusiastic nod.

 _And everyone knows qualitative measurements of happy things increase exponentially based on the individual elements involved, right?_

This question was met with a blank, very confused stare.

The Adder sighed, _Hugs from kitties are better than normal hugs. A lot better._

This time Angel nodded, though she still looked a bit confused.

 _So you just need to give him a nice, big hug. And the best place to hug a person is the back of their head. Make sure you hit- uh, hug as hard as you can, too. That'll make it even better._

Clearly uncertain again, Angel asked, _You sure?_

 _Of course I'm sure, Fuzzface. I'm the expert, remember? Everyone likes their pussy fast, hard and in their face. Well, unless it's… big enough to swallow them whole. Then they're plunged into a h-hell of darkness and sticky fluids, b- barely given time to breath before the next… next… Oh, great and powerful fork-tongued god, it's all coming back to me! Why!?_

... _you okay?_

 _Do I look like I'm fucking okay!? Just rail the kid in the back of his traitor skull already!_

Angel took off like a shot, leaving a cluster of shallow gashes in the floor. The acceleration was so powerful and abrupt that the Adder - even locked in the midst of his lamia-induced trauma - stared after her in shock. The tiny cat launched down the hall, somehow gaining even more speed as she went.

 _Huh. I probably should have thought this through. Oh well, it's not like a little cat can cause permanent damage, right?_

Just as she passed through the doorway leading into the Great Hall, Angel hurled herself upward. There was an excited cry of, "Miyah!" as she twisted in midair, whirling around in a way only a cat could.

* * *

Harry was one of the first to arrive at breakfast. He supposed that was what happened when you got up at four in the morning. Most of his fellow Gryffindors were just starting to stir as he was leaving the tower. When he arrived in the Great Hall, there were only a few other students there. Most were over at the Ravenclaw table, munching away at their food and staring at a book.

There was a small menagerie of animals (and other things) hanging around. Most were either sitting near their wizards or half-asleep in one of the plush animal beds that littered the area beneath the tables. So far he'd counted 3 cats, 4 dogs, 2 birds of some sort, what appeared to be a spider monkey and a horse. The horse had pulled one of the beds out from under a table and was comically trying to lay in a piece of furniture intended for a much smaller creature.

There had also been several 'somethings'. Harry had no idea what any of those had been. A few resembled mundane creatures to a degree, but even those were odd enough to doubt his eyes.

As a large platter of food appeared before Harry, his eyes widened in amazement. Most would assume it was due to the magical manner by which the food had arrived. That, however, wasn't the case. What had truly shocked Harry was the realization that he was about to eat a breakfast that he hadn't cooked. In the face of that revelation, magically appearing bacon seemed trivial.

The poor little bastard was so fascinated by his bacon that he never saw it coming.

Harry barely had time to let out a surprised cry as a set of tiny paws slammed into the back of his skull. The blow was powerful enough to send him pitching forward, cutting off his shout as he was slammed face-first into his stack of pancakes. The breakfast pastries, thankfully, cushioned the blow somewhat. Chunks of pancake and blobs of syrup were sent flying in every direction, but Harry wasn't heavily concussed.

 _Goddamn. Remind me not to piss her off…_ the Adder hissed. _Wonderful. Now I've got two pussies to be afraid of…_

Hermione, sitting across from Harry, lowered the plate she'd reflexively protected herself with. Giving the pile of food that she'd dumped onto the table in her haste, she gave her makeshift shield a violent snap. It sent a spray of eggs and homefries across the table, catching Fred straight in the face. Neither party involved bothered to acknowledge the minor assault had happened.

"Well, he's certainly awake now, isn't he?" the witch remarked. "Are wizards magnets for head trauma or something?"

Harry reached up and peeled his Familiar off his head. He then, with considerably more difficulty, peeled his face off his plate. Holding Angel in front of his face, he glared at her and said, "That wasn't very nice."

"Miyah?" Angel asked, cocking her head and giving him a puzzled look. In Beastialiitongue, it translated roughly to, _I'm helping._

The sound she made was very odd. It was similar to, but not quite a cat's meow. It was another small oddity that sort of drove home how different she was.

"Why did you do that?" Harry demanded.

Angel stared at him for a moment, then turned to look at the Adder. The snake's posture quite obviously said, "Extremely amused," drawing a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare from the cutten. It was rapidly becoming obvious what had just happened there.

She'd remember that...

Turning back to Harry, she said, "Miyah?" innocently.

Glaring at her through narrowed eyes, Harry considered his options. It only took him a moment to decide what he should do. Moving slowly and deliberately, he raised his Familiar to his face.

"Mi-ya~ack!"

Angel's curious meow was immediately aborted in favor of a shocked and disgusted shriek of horror as Harry pressed her against his face and used her like a washcloth. It took several firm swipes to get most of the food off. At the end of it he wasn't exactly clean, but he sure felt a lot better.

His Familiar finally managed to struggle out of his grip and bounced onto the table. She turned and glared at him for a moment, then anthromorphisized. Plates and silverware went flying in every direction, accompanied by another thick spray of food as she exploded into human form..

"My Boy! You're so mean! I was just giving you kitty hugs. Mr. Pretty Snakey said you like them."

 _You can't prove a thing. I'm as innocent as a snake with an apple,_ the Adder proclaimed as he slithered up one of the table's legs. _Speaking of apples, I'm noticing a distinct lack of small rodents on these platters. Way to discriminate, you racist assholes._

Angel paused, frowning, then ran a finger across the underside of her breast. She held her hand up to examine the sticky syrup for a moment, then popped her finger into her mouth.

"Mmm~ I'm delicious."

Harry and his five friends sat there staring, frozen in shock, just as they'd been since she changed. In fact, nearly the entire hall was staring, though for varying reasons. McGonagall in particular had clearly taken in interest in the event. Judging by the slight twitch in her eyebrow she wasn't amused.

Angel was half laying reclined on the table, sprawled atop the few dishes and plates she hadn't knocked off during her change. She was absolutely covered in syrup and bits of pancake. Aside from that, she was completely nude. At the moment the debris was sort of preserving her modesty (but not really), but even that was vanishing as she eagerly scraped the sweet substances off her own body.

Hermione made a panicked noise and lunged forward to grab Angel's wrist before her hand quite made it to her hips.

"Don't! Look, there's plenty more. Why don't you be a good kitty and come down? I'll make you a plate, okay?"

Hermione's comment earned her an adoring look.

"Ooh~, I like you. You're nice."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that. I suppose this is why they say you shouldn't feed strays," Hermione sighed. "Come on, I'll help you down. You can have some of my bacon."

Angel took her hand and slid off the table, looking at her uncertainty. "What's bacon? Is it a good things?" she asked curiously.

"This is a bacon," Hermione replied, holding up a bacon. "It **is** a good things."

"Ooh~, it smells good."

"Where are your clothes? I'll let you have it if you put them on," Hermione offered.

Angel opened her mouth, paused, then closed it again. A moment later she sheepishly said, "I lost them."

"Yeah, she wasn't wearing them last night, actually," Harry added. "Where are they?"

Angel, still staring at the strip of bacon, shrugged. "I dunno, My Boy. If I did, they wouldn't be lost," she reasoned, drawing an amused chuckle from both George and King.

"This… could be a minor problem…" Harry decided.

McGonagall seemed a lot less annoyed now that they were obviously trying to do something about the issue. She was still watching them carefully, however, and it was hard to tell how long her patience would last. Though he hadn't interacted with her a whole lot, Harry was absolutely certain that would be a bad thing.

"A minor problem?" Fred asked weakly. "No… I'm pretty sure it's causing a… uh.. pretty major problem."

Neville nodded and agreed, "Yeah. Professor McGonagall looks really unhappy."

"No, Nev, I was trying to say I just popped a massive bo-" Fred's remark ended in a yelp of pain as a pair of foxes slammed into his face, driving his straight off his seat. "Ack! The hell did you even come from!? I- No! No biting that! Sausage is bad for foxes!"

Harry hadn't expected Fred to be much help, but still...

Sighing, he turned away from the fierce melee now going on around his feet and turned to a more reliable source of advise. "Hermione, what should we do about-"

Harry stopped in mid-sentence.

"Aw, you almost got it that time," Hermione said, dangling the bacon in front of Angel's face by one corner. The Familiar's eyes were fixed firmly on it, like it was the only thing in the world. "You should try again. Maybe you'll get it."

"You keep moving it!" Angel complained, not looking away from the breakfast meat. "You shouldn't do that!"

Hermione let out an exaggerated gasp of horror. "Me? Moving it? Why would I do that?" she asked. "Are you sure you didn't just miss it?"

Angel's eyes momentarially flicked away from the bacon to give Hermione a confused look. "I missed it?"

"Well, I didn't move it, but you didn't get it. Obviously that means you must have missed it."

Angel frowned, then leaned forward suddenly and snapped at the bacon. At the last second Hermione moved it, shifting it to one side. Angel's teeth slammed shut on thin air. Then, before the Familiar recovered from the lung, she moved it exactly back where it had been.

"Oh, you missed it again!" Hermione said sadly. "You should be more careful."

Okay, so much for help from that corner.

"Hermione? Don't you have your own Familiar to torture?" Harry asked with a sigh.

Hermione shrugged, the gesture moving the bacon again just in time for Angel to "miss" it. Smiling, she said, "The last I saw him, the lazy thing was asleep on my bed. Besides, yours is much more fun to tor- uh, play with."

Fighting the urge to groan, Harry twisted to look down the other side of the table. King, surely, would be a much better source of advise.

The teenage titan was hunched forward over the table, staring down intently. Everyone now and then he'd open his mouth, allowing a thrilled Lady to feed him. For the most part, however, his attention seemed entirely focused on the object in his hands. It was a ball of silver that had, before it met him, been several forks. Now he was kneading it and twisting it, working it between his fingers like a ball of putty.

"Uh, King…?"

"I am afraid I am a bit occupied at the moment, Harry," King said absently. "Inspiration waits for no man. Perhaps you should locate the nearest vulpine for a recommendation?"

"...you're still mad about that…?" Harry muttered. Fine. His with his two most reliable sources of information down and his foxy advisors busy maiming their master, that left only Neville and George. So, deciding experience would be helpful, he turned to the redhead. "Ge-"

Harry stopped cold.

George was staring at him. No, he wasn't just staring at him, he was **staring** at him.

The Weasley's pupils had dialated to the point that his irises were barely visible. They were fixed firmly on Harry, but shuddering slightly. It was like something inside his skull was vibrating rapidly, shaking the orbs and nothing else. His head was tilted to the side and the higher corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile. The other half of his mouth was a simple, emotionless line.

It was one of the creepiest things Harry had ever seen in his entire life.

Eyes drifting down to the redhead's plate, Harry observed bits yellow and white on his plate. The damning evidence was there: the remains of a serving of scrambled eggs.

"Oh vasco," Harry sighed. "You know what? Nevermind. I'll figure it out."

" _ **rend her soul**_ "

"No, George, I think I got it. Just go… do… something that you're not going to do here."

" _ **tear her soul into quivering shreds - rejoice in the pained screams of her immortal spirit - devour the darkness left in its wake - revel in the void - only in death may you be immortal - eternal joy to the herald of oblivion**_ " George whispered.

"Okay George. I can't do it now, but it's going on my to-do list. I promise," Harry muttered, scooting his chair back a little. Down to one option, he turned to Neville. "Hey, Neville. Do you have any… uh… you okay?"

Neville was pale and shaking, staring back at George with wide eyes. "H- Harry? George is… he's…"

"Yeah, he does that. We're pretty sure it's some kind of egg allergy."

"I- I'm pretty sure that's not how allergies work."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I'm pretending it is so I don't have to think about it too much. It's working out pretty well for me, so you might want to give it a try."

Neville looked back and forth between Harry and George for a moment, then his frightened look was swept away by one of realization. "Oh~, an egg allergy! Why didn't you say so? It makes perfect sense."

"Doesn't it?"

"It does! Sorry, what were we talking about before George's… uh…"  
"His weird sneezes?" Harry supplied.

Neville nodded enthusiastically. "Of **course** it was a weird sneeze. It makes perfect sense!"

"Doesn't it?"

"It does! What were we talking about before George's weird sneeze?"

Harry wordlessly pointed to one side, where Hermione was still taunting Angel with the same piece of bacon and said, "Naked," then nodded toward McGonagall - who was once again visibly running out of patience - and added, "Pissed."

Nodding in realization, Neville pondered the problem. Unfortunately, the only thing he could come up with wasn't all that useful.

"It's too bad she's not like Orchid," he said, causing the vines under his robes to shift in curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

"She just makes flowers to cover herself with. I just thought it would be easy to fix if she had clothes like Orchid."

The vines pressed against his flesh quivered, then launched forward hard enough to send him sprawling from his chair. They streamed out of his robes and slammed into Angel so quickly that she barely had time to let out a gasp of surprise.

Three first-years watched curiously as Angel thrashed around on the floor, alternately letting out loud giggles and shocked yelps. Green strands of varying thickness and composition surged around and around her body, covered in tickling flower petals and poking leaves. Despite the outraged yells and frantic flailing, the cat was clearly being careful to keep her nails away from her fellow Familiar. This left her with no defense but ineffectual slapping, a fact that Orchid seemed more than happy to take advantage of.

"No! No! Bad Flower! Bad-bad-bad-bad- **naughty** Flower! Not touches there! No touches! Ack! That's worse, dirty Flower! Bad! No poking!"

Harry scratched his head and said, "'Clothes like Orchid, huh? You might wanna think a little more about how you phrase things, Neville."

Wide eyes following the one-cat melee, Neville nodded slowly. "Yeah… you're probably right. Hey, uh, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling kind of funny? Like… uh… here?" Neville asked, grabbing his own crotch. "Because I'm feeling kind of… funny."

There was a loud bang as a plate hit the floor, then a clatter as it rolled to a stop. Turning, the boys witnessed Hermione looking back at them in pale-faced horror. In one hand she still had a fork with a chunk of sausage on it. The other was empty, but still held as if a plate had recently fallen from her shock-numbed fingers.

"I… I definitely shouldn't be the one to deal with this," she said nervously. "Let's go talk to the professor. Maybe it'll be enough to distract her from naked cats. Maybe it'll distract **you** from naked cats."

Neville frowned at her in confusion as he rubbed his crotch. "Uh, thanks Hermione, but that's alright. I figured it out, anyway. I've got wood."

Hermione's horrified look: now with 30% more horror!

The horror quotient skyrocketed as Neville shoved a hand straight down into his pants. With a look of intense concentration he began jerking his hand rapidly.

"Hang on. I think I got it. Almost there!"

"Neville!" Hermione shrieked. "What do you think you're doing right in the middle of-"

With a triumphant cry Neville yanked his hand out from under his waistband. Sighing in relief, held aloft a rather large stick.

"See? Told you I had wood," he said proudly. "Sucker was really lodged in there. Somehow my boxers got all wrapped around it."

Hermione's only response was the faint tic her left eye suddenly acquired. It actually matched the one McGonagall was once again developing quite well, to the extent that it was twitching to the exact same beat.

"Okay, so apparently Orchid gives Neville wood when she gets excited," Harry observed.

Slowly climbing back into his chair, Fred chimed in, "Seems reasonable. God knows she gives me wood."

The comment caused the foxes held in each hand to struggle harder, snapping at the limb that held them suspended over the table. The twin had them by the scruff of the neck, though, and was holding them in a way that was clearly designed to prevent such retaliation.

"You know, I've been wondering," Hermione muttered, very pointedly turning from the young wizards. Facing Fred, she pointed at the shallow cuts on his face and ears. Slight dribbles of blood were coming from several of the wounds. "How in the world do they do that to you?"

" _ **pain inflicted on the willing brings no joy - only in the torment of pure souls does the darkness revel**_ "

"Okay, so, what my brother was trying to say is that Familiars can't hurt their people because it's sort of a default order. Just like any order, it can be cancelled," Fred explained. "Either that, or he wants to rip out our tongues and use them to lick our asses. Could go either way."

" _ **taste the filth of suffering everlasting**_ "

"Nevermind. Definitely the tongue thing."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, then looked down at the foxes. Their struggles seemed to have burned off most of their energy, as they had weakened considerably.

"Wait, you **told** them they could hurt you!?"

Fred shrugged. "Technically we told the little buggers they could do whatever they want. I was kind of figuring they'd run around in cute dresses wearing fabulous hats. Turns out they're a lot more inclined to chew on people's faces."

"Ooh!, Brother A is a maso-cost!" Angel declared, drawing attention back to herself. "No scratching A, Flower. He might think you like him."

Angel was now clothed in something similar to the halter top and shorts she had before. The new clothing was made entirely of flowers, leaves and woven vines and - impressively - managed to look even more provocative than her previous outfit, despite covering more. The top was made of viney bands, leaving narrow strips of flesh visible between each. Her bottom was very similar to the old one, aside from the fact that it terminated in something very much like fishnet stockings made of creepers. A similar mesh of vines covered her midriff tight enough to be a second skin.

Part of the outfit twisted and bulged, throwing itself away from Angel. It rearranged itself in midair, becoming Orchid's human form (complete with "clothing") before it hit the floor. Straightening, the alura une turned and observed her work with obvious satisfaction.

As the alura une examined her, the vines making up her shorts tightened. The sudden ass-grab made Angel squeak in surprise.

Angel glared at her through narrowed eyes and hissed, "Naughty Flower…"

"Is it just me, or is that actually **worse** than being naked?" George asked.

Sighing in relief, Harry turned to his redheaded friend and said, "Jeeze, I'm glad you're finally back to-"

George was still sitting there, abnormally straight and still. His eyes were still dilated and vibrating. His head was still tilted, with the eerie half-smile. The only difference was that now, instead of staring at Harry, he was clearly ogling Angel.

"I mean, that is seriously hot," George continued. " _ **hotter than the flames that will sear the flesh from your bones and the thoughts from your mind.**_ Like, so hot I'm pretty sure it's not legal."  
Neville stared at him in shock.

"Is… is her outfit actually breaking through the 'allergy?'"

"Ha! It is complete!" King suddenly barked.

The three first-years turned to observe King proudly holding up a small sculpture made of silver. Lady was also looking at it, with a clearly annoyed look on her face. The reason was immediately obvious.

It was a small sculpture of Angel reclining back like she had been on the table.

"A true work of art, though not quite capable of capturing the subject's beauty," he said proudly, turning. The instant his eyes hit Angel, he froze. Gaze still locked on her, he calmly placed the sculpture on the table. Then, with an annoyed cry of, "Damn it!" he brought his fist down on it hard enough to shake the floor.

Muttering under his breath, he immediately started working the flattened silver.

"Okay, so I was kind of considering him the sane one. Turns out we don't actually have one of those," Hermione muttered. Turning back toward the others, she was just in time to watch Orchid re-merge with Angel's outfit. "In fact, I'm pretty sure we go the other direction pretty fast and hard."

Fred edged closer to Angel (and further from his brother) to examine her outfit carefully. In particular, he studied the vines covering her rear.

"Fast and hard, huh? I can think of something I'd-"

A vine whipped out from Angel's flowered outfit, a single thorn at its tip. It screamed through the air faster than anyone there could react. The pointed end whipped across Fred's face, tearing a slight scratch across his cheek.

Fred dropped like a sack of bricks.

 _Mine,_ Orchid declared.

Hermione had just enough time to register a sweet scent before a series of images and feelings tore through her brain. The deluge made both her mind and her stomach lurch violently as she was assaulted by the hallucination. Unfortunately, her mind bounced back a lot quicker than her stomach.

Making a disgusting gagging noise, the young witch keeled over. She wobbled there unsteadily, one hand clasped against her mouth. A moment later she hit the floor on her hand and knees. Pressing her hand tighter against her lips proved fruitless, prompting her the yank it out of the line of fire.

She retched, then heaved. A stream of rainbow-colored liquid poured from her mouth.

The two muggle-born students examined the puddle.

"Uh, Hermione? Did you have some of the pancakes?" Harry asked nervously. "Because I was thinking they looked a little off. You might want to avoid them, just in case you develop an allergy…"

Hermione wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then stared down at the red and blue smear left there. The twitch she had developed a while ago seemed to be getting worse.

"Why the **hell** did I just puke up a rainbow!?"

Neville rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and replied, "That's how Orchid talks. I'm sorry, I didn't know it could make people sick."

"...let me rephrase that. Why the hell did I puke up a **rainbow**!?"

"Oh, that's because of Headmaster Waggleton. There was a magical flu that went around in the late 1800s. From what Gran's mum told her, I guess it was really bad. The headmaster was pretty squeamish, so he put a powerful enchantment on the school. Now, whenever someone throws up the enchantment puts a glamor over it and makes it look like that." Neville explained.

Hermione examined the brilliant puddle. Though it seemed like a waste of magic, it was probably better than the alternative. It certainly wasn't putting her off like it would otherwise, nor was it making her feel like she might bark at the grass again. It even smelled nice and fresh, like a breezy summer day just after a rainshower.

"Oh, look! I found a sailboat!" Harry declared excitedly, pointing at the pool.

"Harry, don't try to find stuff in my- Oh, it **is** a sailboat. And the red blob next to it looks like a penguin," Hermione decided.

"Definitely a penguin," Harry agreed.

"Flower says she's sorry!" Angel called out. She had retreated several steps away, and was shouting theatrically. "Most people don't have the mental flexibility to hear her. Is hurts their brain bad and their belly worse when she talks. That's why she usually just- Flower! I'm **not** saying that!"

 _Prude._

"I am not! You're just really, really dirty. And what's with the 'mine'ing? Why was it me in the naughty-naughty brain-pictures!?"

… _?_

"Oh, don't act like the innocent Flower," Angel huffed. "Anyway, Flower'll talk by giving me little pokes with the words. If she gives me a poke in naughty places, or tries to poke me with things that aren't words, I'm going to be **very** angry at her."

Something about the way his Familiar said that last part sent a chill down Harry's spine.

"Great. So I don't have to worry about turning my breakfast into a rainbow a second time. Wonderful," Hermione grumbled darkly. "Why was **I** the only one that rainbowed?"

"You weren't," came King's weak response.

There was a shell-shocked look on his face, the cause of which was immediately apparent. George still sat across from him, now with multicolored dribbles running down his chin and around his mouth.

King had also acquired some new color, though to a much greater extent than George. He was now covered from head to toe in technicolored fluid. Eerily, there was a multitude of darker shades in there, reds and blues that had a definite ominous feel to them. The wall behind the young wizard was a testament to how bad it had been. It was now painted in neon colors aside from a clean, King-shaped section.

Lady was quite conspicuously not in her master's lap. In fact, she was seated several chairs away, trying very hard to look like it was a perfectly natural place to be.

"King? You okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Have you by chance ever seen The Exorcist?"

"Uh… yeah?"

"It was worse. So much worse," King whispered hoarsely. There was a haunted look on what little you could see of his face. "Even William Friedkin would quail in horror. I have seen the gates of hell, and they come in seven colors."

Harry tried to subtly edge away from the pool of colors slowly growing beneath King. "Just pretend it's a rainbow, King. A liquid rainbow. One that used to be eggs and lots of other food."

"You probably should have stopped after the first sentence, Harry," Hermione sighed.

King stood, moving slowly in a very considerate effort to avoid splashing rainbow juice everywhere. The attempt was almost comical, considering that it would have been pretty hard to make a bigger mess than was already spread around.

"If you will excuse me, I am going to go take a shower. I will most likely be setting myself on fire immediately afterward to try and purge the scent of evil from my flesh," he declared. That said, he turned and trudged out of the Great Hall.

His steps made a cartoonish squishing sound the whole way.

"You know, if it was anyone but him I'd assume they were kidding about the fire part," George stated. "I kinda wanna go see if he does it."

The three first-years slowly turned to look at him, their nervousness quite evident on their faces. Thankfully, he looked pretty normal.

"Man, what happened to him, anyway? I'm really hoping that was liquid rainbow and not **liquid rainbow** , because that'd be gross. And what the hell happened to Fred? Why's he on the floor, and where the hell did Kitten get the hot outfit?"

The "hot outfit" shifted and writhed, growing some very obvious thorns here and there.

"Yeah, you might not want to say stuff like that. I think the vomit spirit's feeling a bit possessive at the moment," Hermione suggested. "I don't know what's up with that, but I'm pretty sure she just killed your brother."

George studied his brother for several seconds, then shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. That's just his 'I was just exposed to a massive amount of toxic substances' slump. He'll come out of it eventually."

"I'm not even going to ask why you can recognize that, let alone so fast."

"It's a gift. Well, a gift and a lot of experience. But seriously, what the hell did I miss? I felt kinda funny, then I guess I must have zoned out for a bit there. Weird…"

"Wonderful. So, a set of living clothing worn by an insane redhead poisoned our other insane redhead in a fit of jealousy. Our **third** redhead is apparently possessed by evil eggs from hell and the guy who's supposed to be the stereotypical sane person in a crazy group is secretly some kind of perverted artist whackjob," Hermione grumbled. "Did I miss anything?"

"Our weirdly intelligent poison snake stole your spoon a while ago. I'm pretty sure he's over at the Ravenclaw tables trying to mug someone with it," Neville supplied.

A moment later a scream of, "Ow! He stabbed me with a spoon!" came, immediately followed by someone gasping, "Ohmygod! Cho!"

"Uh… he's over at the Ravenclaw tables **successfully** mugging someone with it," Neville corrected himself.

"Okay, so I'm pretty sure it's official: this day can not get any weirder," Hermione muttered.

As if rising to the challenge, a loud gong sounded through the hall. The older students reacted immediately, grabbing their plates and diving under tables, or even transfiguring small shelters.

Hermione sighed, "Okay. What the fu-"

"Duck and cover!" George screamed.

George leapt over the table, arms extended outward. His lunge sent him flying between Harry and Neville, allowing him to catch both of them with a nasty clothesline across the chest. They hit the ground with a pair of pained gasps, then issued another set as they were summarily kicked beneath the table. Hermione's exclamation - which was certainly going to be, "What the fudge." - cut off as the redhead grabbed her ankle and bodily hauled her under the table. She didn't even have time to gasp in surprise before she was slammed into the boys, safely tucked beneath a layer of heavy wood.

Similar scenes were playing out all around the hall. Younger students were left staring at their older classmates with mystified expressions on their faces. Every student from the second year up was assuming some sort of defensive position. Many had simply taken cover under the furniture, just as George had, but others were employing more exotic means. There were a few here and there throwing what looked like muggle thermal blankets over themselves and their food, while others were actually quickly transfiguring makeshift shelters.

The reason for their caution became apparent just a moment later.

Hermione's eyes widened as a winged apocalypse descended on Hogwarts. Owls poured into the Great Hall, so many that they had to fight to get in the tiny windows. Their eyes were full of grim determination as they snapped and tore at each other in an attempt to be first, but also oddly blank.

The air was a whirling maelstrom of feathers, beaks and claws as the owls tried to get to their destinations. There was no sense of coordination or cooperation. It was every owl to itself, resulting in them slamming into each other and getting in the way. Hermione was buffeted and smacked by ballistic avians as they barrelled toward their targets, steadfast in their duty. Even safe under the table, the hunkered first year took a few hits as larger owls shoved their smaller brethren aside.

"What the hell was that?" Hermione asked with wide eyes. Of the three, she was clearly the most impacted. It was hard say whether she was simply in the wrong spot, or if she had some sort of bizarre owl-attracting quality. Either way, she had been scratched, buffeted and pecked more than her other friends combined.

George let out a rueful chuckle as he picked the stray feathers out of his hair. "That was Saturday, otherwise known as Owlday around here. I'm thinking it's pretty obvious why," he declared as he began crawling out from under the table. "Teen Witch Weekly comes out today. Every witch and half the poncy wizards in the castle subscribe."

"Why the hell don't they just-"

"Angel! **Stop**!" Harry snapped, cutting Hermione off.

The reason for Harry's forceful bark was immediately apparent as the others wiggled their way back into their seats.

At some point during the feathery melee the Familiar had hopped onto the table and was now crouched atop it, brought up short by that single word. Every muscle in her body had instantly locked up in response to her master's order. It left her standing stock still, a large barn owl lifted halfway to her face. The creature was staring in horror at the mouthful of viscous canines just inches away. It was a truly terrifying sight, made that much worse by the fact that her jaws were spread just a bit further than should be humanly possible.

"Ack," she grunted.

Having every muscle in your body stop moving against your will was a very odd experience.

"Why'd you make me do the stopping, My Boy? It's a birdie! I caught it! It's not even a friend like the little foxies are. I can tell!" Angel whined.

Harry slowly approached the table, set his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. "Owls are our friends too. I want you to let it go. Please don't make me make you."

Angel looked at him uncertainty, but her poised hand dropped slightly.

"But My Boy, birdie is food. Pretty snakey said so!" she protested. "They're okay to eat as long as you give 33 purr-cent away!"

Harry examined her carefully, then his gaze slid down her body. It wasn't the sort of gaze Fred would have slid down her body. No, it was a very suspicious, unamused gaze. Finally it reached the tabletop where, to his complete lack of surprise, the Adder was laying at Angel's feet. He wasn't sure exactly when the snake had reappeared, but it was hardly surprising he was turning out to be a bad influence.

 _I don't suppose you'd believe she's talking about the other snake. You know, the one that's not me?_ the Adder hissed. He looked up and down the table, carefully noting the complete lack of other snakes. _Well, fuck. I'm boned._

"Adder. Did you tell her she could eat that owl?" Harry demanded.

The Adder let out a snakey snicker. _I plead the fifth. Well, actually, I pleaded for a half. Fuzzface drives a hard bargain, so I ended up pleading a third. Stingy bitch._

Harry didn't say anything. He simply continued to give the Adder an irritated stare.

 _I'm not talking without a lawyer and a conman present. I need the conman to keep the lawyer honest, in case you were wondering. Ba dum, tiss._

Harry stared.

 _Damn it, that's creepy as hell! Who taught you to do that? It was the grass snakes, wasn't it? What've I told you about hanging out with them? They're bad influences,_ the Adder hissed. _First you're hanging out with grass snakes, then you're sleeping on a warm rock all day. Soon you'll be snorting the booger sugar and dying with a needle full of number 2 in your arm._

"That… escalated quickly," Harry muttered.

The comment drew a strange look from Hermione, who happened to be standing well within earshot.

"Uh, Harry? What escalated quickly?"

"Nothing," Harry quickly replied. "Just thinking out loud."

 _Fucking racists. You think you're so good because you've got limbs and shit. "Oh, look at me. I'm so special because I have hands made for holding knives!" Some of us actually have to work for other people's money. Must be pretty easy to walk all over the legless with your stupid legs._

Harry groaned internally. If he had known things were going to be like this…

Who was he kidding? He would have been in just as fast. Probably faster. I mean, where else could he have seen the rainbow-colored aftermath of the world's most horrific rainbowing?

"Angel? Let the owl go. Don't make me **tell you** tell you," Harry ordered placing a hand down on the table. "Adder, come here."

 _Yes mommy. I'll be a good little snake,_ the Adder grumbled, slithering up his arm. _You might want to keep in mind how close your pocket is to your sack and who sleeps there._

The Adder paused, freezing halfway up Harry's arm.

 _Your pocket. I sleep in your_ _ **pocket**_ _. I don't want to go anywhere near your sack without a heavy layer of fabric between us. I ain't no spitting cobra, kid, so keep those paws to yourself,_ the Adder hissed. He slithered the rest of the way up Harry's arm and down through his robes. Poking his head out from under the hem of Harry's shirt, he announced, _Ladies and gentlemen, please stand clear. The Adder is now entering "trouser snake" mode. Keep back, unless you wanna get an eye poked out._

Harry shook his head as the Adder vanished. That problem solved, he turned his eyes up toward Angel. The Familiar was now neatly poised in her seat. There was a suspiciously innocent look on her face and the owl was conspicuously absent.

"Angel. Where's the owl?" Harry demanded.

Angel shook her head and shrugged.

"Why aren't you answering me?"

Angel shrugged.

"Angel. Spit it out."

Angel gave him a look that was probably meant to say something along the lines of, "Spit what out?"

Harry sighed. "Please don't make me do it."

Angel examined his face. There was obvious reluctance there, but obvious determination as well. It was quite clear he was going to get his way, even if he didn't like how he did so.

 _Interesting…_

Without further ado, Angel pitched her head forward and opened her mouth disturbingly wide. A small, feathered ball slammed into Harry's plate with a splat.

The owl started up at Harry with a shell-shocked look frozen on its face. Its eyes were full of wordless horror as it stared blankly up at him.

 _The things I've seen…_ they seemed to say.

Angel leaned forward and carefully flicked the bird with the back of a nail.

"Birdie…?" she asked hesitantly. When it didn't respond after a few more flicks, she popped it into the air and caught it balanced on the back of her hand. Raising it, she studied it carefully.

The owl stared back, completely unresponsive as it sat locked in an unnaturally still state of terror.

Frowning, Angel juggled it from hand to hand, then hurled it high enough that its tail feathers brushed the ceiling. Easily catching it on the back of one finger, she examined it again.

"My Boy, birdie isn't birdieing well. I know because they usually fly more," she announced. "I think he might be broke."

George shuddered and muttered, "I'd probably be pretty broke if all that happened to me…"

"How did you even fit that whole thing in your mouth? It shouldn't be physically possible," Hermione demanded.

Angel gave her a solemn look and replied, "It's all about technique. Being able to supress your gag reflex helps, too."

"...wonderful. Another sick, perverted redhead," the witch grumbled. She glared at her cup, then turned to fix Lady with an annoyed look. The water elemental was suddenly sitting across from her, acting for all the world as if she hadn't bailed and abandoned them earlier. "And why aren't you full of crap, huh? They even got my juice!"

"There was a… uh… minor incident in our first year. It was pretty much exactly what you just described," George said hesitantly, eyeing Lady. "The owls stay away from her now. Far away."

"Good. You're sitting with me from now on," Hermione informed the elemental. "If you're lucky I'll even let you feed me bacon."

Lady considered this briefly. On one hand, it would mean not sitting with (or on) her wizard and feeding him. On the other hand, he didn't appreciate it nearly as much as he should. Maybe a few weeks of not having her would teach him a lesson. If she was really lucky, maybe he'd even get jealous.

Decided, the elemental nodded.

"Good."

"Is she really made out of water?" Angel asked, turning away from the broken owl long enough to glance at Lady. She'd sort of noticed the other Familiar at the summoning, since it was kind of hard to miss her, but hadn't paid her a lot of attention. Her boy had been a lot more important, after all.

Harry nodded and declared, "Of course she is. She's a water elemental. It'd be strange if she wasn't made of water," unconsciously echoing King.

Angel gave him a doubtful look, then turned back to Birdie.

Harry, assuming the subject was pretty much sealed, was caught completely by surprise when Angel slammed a hand down on the table. The butter knife it landed on flipped into the air and was easily caught between two fingers. Without even bothering to look, she flicked her wrist and sent it screaming through the air straight at Lady's face. Unsurprisingly, it passed straight through her head and out the back.

From somewhere further down the hall there was a shocked cry of pain, followed by, "Holy shit! Cho!"

"Ooh~, she is," Angel said, still not looking away from the bird.

"Angel! What are you doing! You can't just throw things at people! You could have hurt someone!" Harry scolded her. It had taken approximately 1.2 seconds for his brain to edit out the cry of pain, then another 0.5 for him to convince himself he hadn't done so on purpose.

Angel shook her head.

"It's okay, My Boy. It was just a buttering knife. Even if she was made of the meats and bones, it wouldn't have hurt much. It wouldn't even have made it all the way through the skull parts!"

"Quick! Someone get ready with a clotting spell! I'm going to pull it out!"

Neville looked back and forth between his friends nervously. "Um, should we do something about that?"

"Do something about what, Neville?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Sweet Merlin. Someone help me with this! It must be lodged in the bone or something, because I can't get it out!"

Pointing down the hall, Neville clarified, "That. You know, the screaming and stuff?"

"Sorry, Neville. I've been suffering from random bouts of intermittent deafness. I haven't heard any screaming," Hermione said as she calmly slid one of the remaining covered platters across the table. "Hey, cool. Untainted french toast."

"She hit someone with a butter knife!" Neville accused, pointing at Angel. In response, she very deliberately turned her attention back to the owl and started prodding it with a look of extreme focus on her face.

George shook his head and gave Neville a worried look. "'She' Nev? Who's this 'she' you're talking about? Harry, do you remember a she somewhere around here? I guess she had a butter knife or something…."

"No shes around here, Fred. Certainly none that might have had a butter knife or something."

"I agree, Harry. In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember a distinct **lack** of shes, butter knives and or somethings."

Harry nodded seriously. "You know, Fred, now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure I remember not remembering seeing all those things that weren't at any point here."

"Did you guys say something? I just went deaf again for a second," Hermione asked.

Neville turned to give her an annoyed look. "Shouldn't you be mad about that?"

"Why would I be mad?" Hermione asked curiously.

"You're the responsible one, right? You should be telling us to respect teachers and follow the rules!" Nevill replied.

The comment got him a very weird look in return. "Why on Earth would you say that? Exactly what about me, from the time you met me until now, suggests I should act like that? Of course you should show obedience and respect, but that doesn't mean you should do so blindly. You-"

"Oh! I know!" Angel exclaimed suddenly, cutting her off. "I can fix birdie!"

Closing her eyes and sighing, Hermione declared, "There's no way in hell this ends well…"

"Birdie just needs a little help flying!" the Familiar said excitedly. She hopped up onto the table, sending the few remaining dishes flying.

Harry froze in shock for a moment, then shook his head and prepared to shout at her to stop. Unfortunately, his moment of hesitation lasted just a little too long.

"Angel, do-"

Angel twisted and ducked, whirling around in what was clearly a very practiced motion. Extending her arm, she torqued around and snapped the limb forward, launching the owl in a throw that had the power of her entire body and a significant amount of leverage behind it. The poor bird was sent flying through the air at a speed that made the butter knife look like it had been standing still.

Harry was pretty sure he witnessed the flesh around the thing's eyes peeling back due to the wind resistance, exposing more of its eyes than a person should ever see. It was a very cartoonish moment. It was also considerably more horrifying and disgusting to see it in person than on the telly.

"Birdie, **fly**!" Angel screamed happily as she released it.

A split second later there was a stomach-churning, meaty splat.

For several seconds the hall went silent.

Finally, George said, "They, uh, probably should have made that window a little bigger, huh?"

"Or moved it to the left," Hermione added. "Honestly, what a stupid place for a window."

"I don't think they were anticipating ballistic owls, Hermione," Neville said slowly.

There was a horrible slurping sound as the former owl separated itself from the stone wall. A wet splat echoed through the silent hall as it landed. The silence was shattered a moment later by a horrified scream.

"Oh my god, Cho!"

"It hit the knife!"

"Dear God, there's owl in her spleen!"

"¡No es bueno!"

With a very unamused expression, McGonagall's slowly stood. Harry groaned slammed his face into the table. At this point he didn't even care about taking a stack of pancakes to the nose again, nor that they were this time decorated with feathers.

Here's hoping the rest of the year wasn't as vasco'd up.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

Poor Harry, he has no idea…

In case you were wondering, I don't like Cho. It's probably pretty obvious at this point, but I thought I'd throw it out there. Her behavior in cannon is terrible and, as anyone who read Classic can tell you, she pays for it in this. For a long time and repeatedly. It's kind of a running gag, like dead owls.

I felt like putting a bit more effort into explaining Orchid's infatuation with Angel. Granted, Angel is incredibly attractive - and therefore looks incredibly tasty - but it always seemed like a bit more than just that. With this, you could think of it as sort of an imprinting. Angel brought Orchid's new human feelings to the forefront, so they're kind of fixated on her.

The real reason for Orchid's Angel obsession, of course, is because it fills me with happy thoughts.

Speaking of happy thoughts, sending me a picture of that would instantly make you one of my favorite people. If it's a **good** one (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more) I'll write you into the story or something.

Also, I didn't realize how freaking long this chapter was until I uploaded it and saw the word count. Sorry about that.

Yes, I'm trying to bribe readers into sending me yuri fanart of characters from my own story. Do me a favor and let me know if it works.


	9. Skool Daze

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

MXOTOXM

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

MXOTOXM

Chapter Nine

"Skool Daze"

AKA

"Spoon 2: The Ladeling"

MXOTOXM

Monday, First Period: Charms

"Harry Pott- Ack!"

Harry, Hermione and Neville watched with distinctly unimpressed expressions as the diminutive Charms instructor fell off his pile of books. The small man, obviously somewhat excitable to begin with, had seemed agitated and eager right from the moment they'd entered the room, and now it became clear why. It seemed he was among those in the older generations that considered the Boy-Who-Lived the best thing since the portable magic-powered automated bread-slicing apparatus.

"Ouch. That looked painful…" Neville muttered.

Harry and Hermione nodded solemnly. The three were among the few who didn't laugh, though it may have been because the event was just as embarrassing for Harry as it was for Flitwick.

The instructor quickly regained his footing, dusted his robes off and hopped back up onto the stack of books. He was so short that it clearly would have been impossible for him to see over it without some form of aid, but the situation in general left Hermione wondering how stupid wizards were, exactly.

"Why doesn't he just get a shorter desk?" she whispered to the boys.

Harry nodded and added, "Or some kind of step-stool…"

"Welcome to your first Charms class!" Flitwick squeaked excitedly. "Charms is a wonderful art, focused on temporarily altering an object's physical and magical properties, or even adding new ones! You can accomplish almost anything with the right charms, and the subject itself serves as a gateway to the more advanced art of Enchanting."

Hermione immediately raised her hand.

"Oh, a question already? Excellent, Ms. Granger. There are few things better than an eager student. What is it?"

"Can you use charms to make things float? For example, things like books, chairs or even step-stools?" Hermione asked.

Flitwick nodded enthusiastically. "Why, yes you can. In fact, that's exactly what the first charm we'll be using does! The Levitation Charm can make just about anything float, provided you have the power and concentration to do so."

"...seriously?"

This time Flitwick's nod was quite serious as he replied, "Charms is a quite serious subject, Ms. Granger. I would hardly joke about such a thing. Now then, the wand movement is as such, and the incantation is 'Wingardium Leviosa!'"

As soon as he finished the wand motion, his entire stack of books lifted into the air.

"...seriously?" Herimione repeated, her tone so dry that it could dehydrate a Saharan Narwhal.

Following the demonstration, class proper began. Flitwick quickly passed out a collection of large, brown feathers. Soon the room was full of mispronounced incantations, janky wand movements and quietly swearing students.

It didn't take Harry long to discover that Ollivander had been quite right about his birch-and-quartz wand. Trying to use it felt just a little bit awkward, making it just a hair harder to use than he thought it should be. It was sort of like writing with a ballpoint pen when the ink was slightly dry, causing the tip to freeze up and skip every now and then.

A second, much more disturbing problem arose a moment later. A subtle elbow in the side from Hermione caused him to look to the side. Flitwick was there, his head just about level with Harry's, eyes shining in admiration as he looked at the boy.

"Um… Hi?" Harry said uncertainty.

Flitwick's gazed didn't waver in the slightest. "How did you do it?" he whispered, his voice full of awe.

"Do what?" Harry asked, his confusion evident.

"Riddle. You killed him as a child. How?"

Before Harry could reply, Neville chimed in, "Oh, he's the infamous baby-murderer."

"He did it with a head laser," Hermione added. She reached over to lift Harry's bangs, exposing his scar. "See? That's obviously a head laser scar."

Harry had to fight down a giggle. At this point he wasn't sure whether Hermione actually believed that, or if she was just messing with their instructor. It didn't really matter either way, he supposed. Regardless of her reasons, it was obvious that the two were the best friends ever.

"A head laser," Flitwick gasped in awe. "Amazing!"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't even get to keep his skull. Someone else took it, I guess."

"A shame. It would have looked lovely over your fireplace," Flitwick said sadly. "A head-lasering. I wish I was there to see it. Watching that lovely young man be lasered into oblivion would have been fantastic."

"'Lovely,'" Hermione repeated. "Didn't he kill a lot of people? How is that lovely?"

Flitwick stared at her in confusion, then made a surprised face. It was pretty clear something had just now occurred to him. "Oh, yes. Of course. Terrible, terrible man. That's what I meant to say."

"Right. I can totally see making that mistake," Hermione said blandly. "The keys are right next to each other."

Harry, on the other hand, was carefully studying the instructor's face. That earlier statement about the skull had given him an inkling of an idea. Now that he was looking for it, the set of Flitwick's jaw and general structure reminded him of…

"You seem like you'll be an awful teacher," Harry declared respectfully. "Is it too late to ask for a replacement?"

Immediately, Hermione gasped, "Harry!"

A quiet moment passed as Flitwick examined him. Whatever he found there obviously met his approval, because he broke out in a wide grin. Harry wasn't surprised to see that it looked more like the smile of a goblin than a human.

"Awful, is it? Well, we'll see how well you keep up, you ignorant brat!" Flitwick snapped happily. Without further ado he whirled around and walked away.

Hermione stared after him with an obvious look of confusion on her face. "What… what just happened there…?" she asked quietly.

Neville shook he head and shrugged.

The witch shot Harry a curious look, but then scowled when it became obvious he didn't intend to answer the question. Muttering under her breath about insane classmates and instructors, she turned back to her feather. She was so distracted in her annoyance that she didn't even notice that the large, brown feather had mysteriously been replaced with one much smaller and whiter.

The owl hanging out in her hair was looking mighty proud of itself. It had stopped freaking out a while ago, and now seemed to be rather enjoying being carted around like some sort of imperial ruler.

Harry briefly considered pointing out how odd it was that someone wearing an owl was calling him insane, but decided against it. His friend seemed prone to sudden and unexpected outbursts of irritation and had no problem expressing herself during them. Who knew how she'd react to a roosting owl?

MXOTOXM

Tuesday, First Period: Transfiguration:

As it turned out, the answer to the previously noted question was quite different than anyone would have guessed.

Harry had no idea when or how it had happened. He had no idea at what point she'd actually noticed the owl in her hair, nor did he understand why it was exempt from her newly discovered hatred of nocturnal avians. All he knew was that she'd come down into the common room just after he woke up, cradling it in her arms. She then proceeded to spend the rest of the morning cooing and fawning over it like it was a feathery infant.

The wizards of the group quickly learned two things about the tiny owl. The first was that her name was Headwig, as named by Hermione's cheshire. They must have sat through the explanation ("She was sitting on my head like a wig! Isn't that cute?") a couple dozen times by midday. The other thing they learned about the owl was that referring to her as an "it" was a punishable offense. Considering that Hermione's idea of punishment appeared to be punitive violence, it was a good lesson to remember.

"Isn't she just the cutest?" Hermione asked again as they waited for Transfiguration to begin. She'd been pretty freaked out by the cougars lounging by the professor's desk at first, but the sheer cuteness of her new pet had helped her recover in record time.;

Harry examined the small owl.

She was roving around the table, moving about in small hops. With each tiny bounce her wings would flare a bit as she carefully maintained her balance. Every now and then she'd stop, tilt her head at an absurd angle and examine something through a pair of mostly upside down eyes.

"Yeah. Cute," Harry agreed unenthusiastically. He probably would have put a little more feeling into it, but the owl made him a bit nervous. Every time the small bird looked at him, he had the sudden and irrational feeling that she was wondering what he tasted like.

Angel, likewise, didn't seem to know what to make of Headwig. She had been laying (in cat form, thank the gods) on the table for the past five minutes, carefully watching the owl bob around with great interest, her eyes following every movement. Harry had at first thought she was considering attacking and eating the owl, but the impression he got from her stance wasn't quite right for that.

Headwig had hopped closer a few times, presumably to make friends, but had been rebuffed by a barely audible growl each time. She was understandably put off by it, quickly hopping away at the sound.

Needless to say, the attitude wasn't scoring any points with Hermione.

"I swear, Harry, if that cat tries to eat my cute little Headwig…" Hermione hissed.

Headwig turned to give Harry an admonishing glare. A chill ran down the boy's spine.

"She's not going to eat your owl, Hermione."

"Are you sure? She has a history of trying to eat little owls. She's a known offender, and should probably be on a list of some sort.:

"She's not going to eat your owl, Hermione," Harry repeated in the exact same tone. "Anyway, shouldn't you be more worried about Orchid? I mean, she's a plant that eat all the things, right? Neville had a hard time making her not eat wizards, so why would she have second thoughts about little owls."

Hermione slowly turned to glare at Neville.

Neville slowly turned to glare at Harry.

Harry slowly turned to glare at Hermione. He didn't have any particular reason for it. It just seemed like everyone else was jumping off a bridge into knife-wielding mug-snake infested waters, so he may as well do the same.

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said sarcastically. Raising his arm, he pulled back his sleeve to show bare flesh. "Orchid isn't even with me right now. I think she must be on Angel."

The three first-years turned to look down at the Familiar in question. Angel, sensing their gazes, turned to look back at them and said, "Miyah?"

"Okay, how the hell does that work?" Hermione demanded. "I mean, I can almost see the clothes, because magic, but Orchid is another living being. Where does she go?"

"That actually occurred to me earlier. I just decided to ignore it, because thinking about it hurts my brain," Neville replied.

"That's not exactly the best- Oh dear," Hermione cut off, eyes widening as she stared across the room.

One of the cougars had, at some point, dragged itself up off the floor. It had climbed up onto the professor's desk and now sat there, watching them. Its eyes held the sort of judgemental look only a cat could manage, the intensity of which obviously scaled upward as the cat got larger.

"W- what's it doing?" Hermione asked nervously.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. It's probably someone's Familiar, though. That means it's not going to do anything crazy," he said. There was a brief pause, then he looked down at Angel. "Uh, it's not going to do anything to hurt us. Crazy might still be on the table."

As if in answer to Harry's remark, the cougar suddenly bunched itself up. Before anyone had a chance to react it flung itself forward, lunging toward the first row. The students there - and Hermione, despite being in the back row - let out panicked screams. They were ultimately pointless, though, as the cat never reached them.

McGonagall landed neatly on her feet as the last of her fur vanished.

She loved the first day of class. She'd been pulling that trick on first-years for decades and it still hadn't stopped amusing her.

"What you just saw was an example of an advanced Transfiguration: the Animagus Transformation. It is one of the few inherent spells that can be learned and trained, and allows one to turn into a specific beast at will," she declared loudly. "Transfiguration, at its height, can create almost anything. It is also the foundation upon which the more complex arts of Conjuration and Alchemy are based."

The students, many of them still trembling, looked on in silent awe. After a few moments a young Gryffindor - one Harry didn't recognize offhand - raised his hand.

"Does that mean we can learn to turn into big cats?"

McGonagall shrugged and replied, "The Animagus Transformation requires a certain knack for the art. In addition, the learner does not choose the beast they become themselves. It is, most commonly, a form that resembles their familiar, but there are exceptions to the rule."

"Oh…" came the sad reply. Apparently the wizard really wanted to be a big cat. Frowning, he turned his gaze down toward his familiar. The little chinchilla looked back up at him curiously.

Chuckling, McGonagall magnanimously stated, "If it's any consolation, wizards have been known to become dire versions of their Familiars rather commonly."

There was a brief pause as everyone pictured a 60-kilogram chinchilla. There were a few scattered giggles around the room.

"Now then, to class. I would like you all to come to the front of the room and pile your textbooks in this corner," McGonagall ordered, pointing to one side of the room. When no one moved, preferring to give her confused looks instead, she urged, "Come on. Let's not waste time."

A few more confused mutters came from her students, but they formed a queue and followed her instructions. Even Hermione divested herself of her text, though she gave it a long and reluctant look before adding it to the stack. Soon there was a large pile of books in the corner and the students were once again seated.

"Excellent. Now then, incendio!" McGonagall snapped. She jerked her wand to the side, hurling a small fireball into the stack. The textbooks erupted into a pillar of flame, filling the room with heat and smoke.

Hermione lunged forward, forcing Harry and Neville to restrain her, screaming, "No~!"

"Don't mourn those stacks of trash, Ms. Granger. They're not worth the paper on which they're printed, and they're printed on some very cheap paper," McGonagall stated. "The Ministry-mandated curriculum is useless. The approved texts consist of nothing but premade spells. There is no point in learning to turn a pincushion into a hedgehog."

"...but how can you teach something else?" Hermione asked with obvious horror.

"Because I am a master transfigurist, and my position allows me to get away with quite a bit that others would not. There is also the fact that the OWL and NEWT scores for the subject have improved dramatically since I took over," McGonagall said smugly. "Prepackaged spells are easy to cast, but ultimately quite useless. True Transfiguration consists of a series of aspects strung together, each syllable and wand movement indicative of a single part of the change. This is what we will be learning."

Hermione continued to stare at the corner they had piled their books in. Nothing remained there but a pile of ash. "But isn't it better to learn it the way the Ministry says?"

McGonagall turned toward her desk and pressed the tip of her wand against it. Smiling, she whispered a long incantation, one that took almost thirty seconds to complete. Finally, she gave the ironwood surface a sharp rap and said, "Mutatio."

A spike of black metal thrust itself out of the desk, then turned to some sort of gelatin. The gooey shaft turned into a cube, then a pyramid, and finally a sphere. That orb became glass and turned into a rat. The rodent only made it halfway across the desk before turning into a crystal butterfly. It fluttered across the room to land in front of Hermione and collapsed into a pile of shimmering glass.

"The Change Spell is the only spell you will ever need for my art. It can perform any necessary alteration and, as you have seen, can be 'programmed' to execute several in succession. In this instance I used an incantation to demonstrate it, but with proper concentration and visualization one is not needed," McGonagall explained. "A true master can even use it sans wand. It is far more useful than prepackaged spells which only have use in the exact situation they were made for."

"I- I guess that makes sense," Hermione muttered reluctantly. "You still could have let me keep the book…"

McGonagall gave her a humorless smile. "Trash should be disposed of properly, Ms. Granger. Now, please come forward and begin handing out your new texts. They contain the most basic aspects, which will form the basis for more complex changes in the future."

The new text was less than a quarter the thickness of the original, earning it happy cheers and approving looks from some corners of the room. The cheers quickly faded as the books were opened, revealing the complex diagrams, pictures and transfiguration theory written within. At that point, only Hermione wore a happy smile.

"Incidentally, roughly one out of five students drop this subject at the end of their third year. Half of those that remain drop it before the fourth year comes to a close," McGonagall said with a wicked smile. "Those that remain are typically able to pass the exam for the lowest degree of mastery immediately following their graduation. I do hope some of you are among them."

Nervous muttering came from all over the room. Hermione, however, slowly broke out into a smile. At that exact moment, she decided to forgive their instructor for destroying her text. In fact, she was quite certain McGonagall would quickly become her favorite professor.

MXOTOXM

Tuesday, Second Period: Herbology

Harry and Neville watched the plants nervously.

The plants were watching his every movement. He was absolutely sure of that, even though they were just as good at hiding their eyes as the dreaded bush. They wanted him to think they were eyeless and harmless, but he wasn't about to be fooled by their act He knew they were observing him, just waiting for him to let down his guard and give him a chance to strike.

He wasn't about to give them the chance. He kept one hand under his robe the whole time. It made caring for the green bastards - a task that nearly made him vomit in his mouth - quite difficult, but it let him keep one hand on his only defense. The large shard of glass was razor sharp, with one end blunted to form a grip. He'd spent their whole lunch period paging through his new Transfiguration book and learned the aspects needed to create it in record time.

He really would have preferred a few gallons of napalm, but the manual was sadly lacking in that area. He'd scanned through it several times, but couldn't find a single transmutation that would make a suitably flammable material.

Neville was watching the plants for much the same reason.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that they were watching him. It was a bizarre, completely insane thought, but for some reason he just couldn't shake the feeling. His every move was being observed and studied with great interest. There was no way a plant, something that clearly lacked eyes, should be able to watch someone, but there was no doubt in his mind they were.

Every now and then one would sway toward him. At first he had thought it was the wind, but the way some of them moved couldn't be brushed off that way. In fact, some had actually moved against the wind.

The intensity with which Harry had studied his transfiguration book at lunch was almost frightening, but Neville was starting to think his friend had the right idea. At the very least, he should have asked Harry to make him a "Plant Poker" as well. It hadn't seemed necessary at the time, though.

It was something to remember for the future.

The only thing that kept him from being completely freaked out was the Familiar wrapped tightly around his body. The images she had put in his mind, while being very disturbing, also reassured him a great deal. She had vines that could crush bone and thorns that could pierce flesh, along with poison that could kill a dozen men. Surely she could handle a few lesser plants.

Of course, it didn't occur to him that Orchid was why the plants were acting odd. For them, it was like a goddess had descended from heaven to walk among them. The power and grace she possessed was nearly irresistible for them.

Finally, the situation came to a head. One of the plants stretched out a thin branch to lightly touch Neville's arm. This seemed to embolden its neighbors, which quickly did the same. Soon they were all reaching out toward him, wrapping around his body to intertwine with Orchid and lifting him into the air.

Neville struggled briefly, wishing he had a sharpened piece of glass hidden in his robes. Without any form of leverage and all his limbs bound, he quickly found his thrashing was useless.

Then, suddenly, a thought crept into his mind.

How dare they touch him without permission!?

"Orchid," he growled. "Trash them."

His Familiar obviously needed no further prompting.

Enough! she screamed in his mind, lashing out with vines of her own. They were far thicker than the other plant's limbs and lined with thorns. The edges, sharpened like the blade of a sword, easily tore through the other plants.

Free from his bondage, Neville plummeted toward the ground. Orchid's vines darted out of his robes and caught him just before he hit it and gently set him on his feet. They then curled toward the other plants in what was clearly a threatening gesture.

Behave.

The plants immediately jerked their ruined limbs back. As one they shuddered, then sagged in disappointment.

A wave of relief swept through Harry. He had been seriously considering ways to skive off the class for the entire year, including diving face-first through one of the glass windows. Massive facial trauma had to count for something, especially if he claimed he had an unnatural compulsion to dive through glass plates. Now it appeared he wouldn't have to execute his brilliant plan at all.

Thank God he had an insanely dangerous man-eating plant to protect him from the insidious bushes.

MXOTOXM

Wednesday, Second Period: Potions

It was only Harry's second Potions class and he already hated it.

Now, most people would probably assume that his animosity toward the class stemmed from the fact that Snape was an enormous douchebag. While the greasy bastard definitely fit that particular mold - a fact which no one outside of Slytherin would disagree with - that wasn't why he disliked it. It was certainly a contributing factor, since the asshole had been riding him since he set foot in the classroom, but the real problem was Angel.

She was up there again, crouched on one of the heavy, iron chandeliers that lit the room. It was one of those gothic affairs, all dark metal and wicked points. A single chain secured it to the ceiling. It was thick and heavy, more than enough to support the massive weight, but undoubtedly not strong enough.

His Familiar was up there, once again demonstrating her impressive balance and flexibility by somehow wedging herself into the meter of space between the light and ceiling.

Now, anyone observing the situation might wonder why she was in human form. Surely she'd fit much more easily and comfortably in her tiny kitten form, right? Of course she would, but there was one minor problem with that.

Her claws weren't long enough.

Angel sat half laying, half hanging from the chandelier, her eyes following Snape as he paced back and forth across the room. From where Harry was sitting, it looked very much like she was trying to get the timing of his movements down. That was a bit worrying, especially considering the way she had a single, metal-slicing nail resting gently against the only thing holding the massive hunk of pointy metal hanging over Snape's head.

Harry was playing a rather difficult game. He was both attempting to brew his potion when Snape was looking and frantically motioning for his Familiar to cease and desist when the instructor's back was turned.

"Are you stupid and blind, Potter?" Snape snapped, leaning over to examine Harry's ingredients. "Or perhaps you're just too stupid to cut your Muckroot evenly."

Angel's finger twitched slightly, raking her claw gently across the chain. Harry was absolutely certain he could see flecks of metal falling from it. She'd been doing that nearly every time Snape gave him shit, and he was starting to wonder exactly how long the poor chain would last.

Of course, it might not be such a bad thing if it snapped...

Surprisingly, it wasn't Angel that caused the first Potions disaster of the year. That one came from a very unexpected source.

Once it became clear that Harry wasn't nearly intimidated as he should be, Neville quickly became Snape's favored target. The poor boy lacked the steady hands and fine dexterity to properly prepared some of the more difficult ingredients. He also had somewhat poor timing, making it hard for him to add ingredients our stir at the proper time. It was all his friends could do to keep him from making a critical mistake. It wasn't something they minded doing, but it did give Snape the perfect chance to get a little harassment in.

His cruel smile made it pretty clear that Snape was rather proud of himself. In particular, he appeared to enjoy the way the boy trembled each time he loomed above him. Such things, as we all know, are like sweet candy for the scumbag assholes among us.

Beneath Neville's clothing, the vines entwining Neville's body rustled and shifted in annoyance. Alura une were naturally sensitive to human emotions, being built from the ground up to manipulate them, and the Bond only heightened that sensitivity. The fear and discomfort her Keeper was feeling was quite irritating.

It was a new feeling because, as previously noted, alura une don't experience emotions in quite the same way humans do. The annoyance was interesting and actually worth exploring for a moment, but it quickly became tiresome. At first the only way she could think of to get rid of it was to eat the bastard causing it, but she had been clearly instructed to not do things like that anymore.

After a few moments, another thought drifted into her mind. It was a strange and alien thought, one that didn't suit an alura une at all, but she had also been told she could think in other ways now.

Beneath that discomfort and fear, there was a faint undercurrent. It was just a hint, but it was an acceptable feeling of annoyance and disdain. It suited someone like her Keeper so much better than his fear, and surely he would mind if she…

Neville didn't notice as the vines around his limbs grew tiny thorns, the anesthetic agent they oozed rendering him unable to feel the pricks. A minor, targeted sedative to reduce the fear, the smallest hint of a narcotic to ease the discomfort and a special cocktail to excite his more suitable emotions should be just right.

Get off my back you greasy so of a-

"Neville, you okay?"

The unexpected question made Neville start in his seat, bad enough to nearly overbalance himself. Turning to look at Harry in confusion, he replied, "Yeah, of course. Why?"

Harry wordlessly pointed down at the table in front of him.

An impressively deep scratch had been gouged into the ironwood surface. It zigged and zagged unevenly, as if done in great haste and with an excessive amount of force. As Neville's eyes followed it, the source quickly became apparent. The very tip of a chopping knife was lodged in the table, sans the rest of the blade.

Neville lifted his hand to stare at his knife. The tip had broken clean off, shortening the tool by a good centimeter.

"Huh."

"Damn," Hermione said with an obvious degree of awe. "That has to be at least a millimeter deep. That's like digging a trench in a cast iron skillet."

"If I ever upset you, please tell me," Harry requested. "I'd really like to know before I upset you too much."

"Harry, what are you… why are you sitting way over there?" Neville asked in confusion.

Harry carefully examined the space between himself and Neville. Mysteriously, it had widened to nearly half a meter, leaving him at the very edge of the table.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Neville. I've been sitting over here the whole time."

"No you weren't," Neville accused. He pointed down at a set of very obvious marks on the floor. "Look, you left scrapes on the floor when you moved your chair. Now that I point that out, how the heck did you do that without me hearing it?"

Harry gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look and replied, "There was nothing to hear. I'd only make a noise if I moved, which I obviously didn't."

"You are so weird…" Neville muttered, sweeping his chopped materials into his hand. Frowning he dropped them into their bubbling cauldron.

The cauldron responded by melting.

It was the weirdest thing Harry had ever seen, but only because there was a dog with a human face that had been permanently erased from his mind. Not much could top that, in both weirdness and sheer, gut-wrenching disgust factor.

One moment the cauldron was perfectly normal, then the next it was sagging into a glowing pile of molten metal. There was neither burst of heat nor flash of flame. It was as if the implement had suddenly given up on life, said, "Screw it," and went to have a nap.

The three friends sat there silently, eyes on the bubbling mound of pewter as they processed what had just happened.

It didn't take long for the laughter to start. It began in the Slytherin side, of course, but even a few of their housemates joined in. Snape, far from helping keep things under control, was giving them an amused sneer from the other side of the room.

They're laughing at me. They're laughing at my friends. They're acting like they're better than us, when they're no better than a bunch of ignorant cattle trampling a field of flowers.

Flowers, Orchid echoed. Somehow the brief hallucination conveyed the sense of an amused giggle. Thorns.

"Hermione, why did our cauldron melt?"

The witch turned away from the laughing students, her angry glare softening as she faced him. "It's okay, Neville. It was just a little mistake. The Windpuff sprig you put in was too coarse. You have to chop it more."

"So… coarse sprigs are bad?" Neville replied. "Like, dangerous bad?"

Hermione shook her head. "The heat transfer is purely tactile. It won't do much more than melt the cauldron. The only way you'd get hurt is if you were dumb enough to have your hand in there, but that's a bad idea anyway because the potion's pretty caustic at this point. Why?"

"Orchid saw Lady feeding King yesterday, so she kept trying to feed me fruit. When I asked where she got it, she said she can make almost any plant she wants," Neville responded.

"Okay. So?"

Neville smiled faintly. It was the kind of smile someone gave you just before declaring they were going to eat your soul and wear your face as a skin-mask.

"Orchid, I think everyone over there forgot to up Windpuff Sprig in their potions. Could you help them and toss some in?" he asked, still smiling. "Make sure it's a lot, too."

Helping! Orchid cheered gleefully. A thin creeper snaked out from under Neville's robes. Tiny buds popped up before blooming into chunks of wood. Each was about the size of a golf ball. The vine whipped around, building up a significant amount of force before snapping the Windpuff sprig into the air just as Snape turned away.

The hunks of sprig crossed the room on a high trajectory, passing a curious Angel as they sailed by the chandelier. They then succumbed to gravity, plummeting toward the Slytherin cauldrons with unerring accuracy. Several students looked up in confusion as there was a small splash in their cauldron.

As previously noted, coarsely chopped Windpuff Sprig wasn't a great thing to have in this particular potion. It stands to reason that a sprig doesn't get much more coarse than being completely unchopped.

What happened in each cauldron immediately afterward can only be described as a massive exothermic reaction. In case you napped through science class, that means things got really hot, really fast. A bubble of heat, roughly the size of a basketball and so intense you could actually see it, erupted around each cauldron. Pewter pots didn't so much melt as liquefy. They instantly turned to molten metal, keeping their shapes for just a brief moment before collapsing into puddles. Said puddles then quickly ate through their tables and splashed down onto the stone floor, leaving a wide hole ringed in eerie green flames.

The student, of course, immediately began freaking out. As the emerald flames began to spread across their tables, they scrambled backwards, knocking over chairs and sending books flying. Half the Slytherins made a panicked bid to grab their things, while the rest abandoned them and dove for the exit.

Harry, Hermione and Neville watched the chaos with wide eyes.

"Wow. I didn't even know ironwood could burn. That's a lot of really, really weird fire," Neville observed.

Hermione shrugged as she calmly began packing her school bag. "It may be hard as metal, but it's still wood. Its ignition point is insanely high, but as you can see it actually burns quite well. Breathing the fumes it gives off for a prolonged period of time isn't exactly a good idea, so we should probably leave."

"I thought you said it wasn't dangerous…" Harry remarked. He was watching the flickering flames in wonder, the awed look on his face bordering on disturbingly fascinated.

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting Nevillle to throw a whole chunk of it in every cauldron in the room, was I?"

Neville's eyes widened. "Orchid, don't!"

His panicked command was just a bit too late. Orchid's vine had already snapped out again, launching chunks of sprig toward the Gryffindors. A moment later the other side of the room, thus far busy laughing at the Slytherins for their misfortune, had joined their wild attempts to escape.

"Well, now both sides of the room are on fire," Hermione observed. "I guess it's safe to say class is cancelled. Here."

Neville accepted the damp wad of cloth, looking down at it curiously.

"Tie it over your mouth," Hermione said as she followed her own instructions. "Going for the door right now would probably get us killed. This'll help with the fumes while we wait. Hopefully the exit clears before it gets too hot in here."

"Sorry," Neville apologized. His voice was a bit muffled by the wet cloth, but the sincere regret in his tone was obvious. "I'm pretty sure Orchid thought you were upset she missed some cauldrons. She was trying to help."

Hermione paused in packing her things, giving him a thoughtful look. "Considering that our professor seems to be intent on messing with us, we weren't exactly learning much.. Self-study isn't necessarily a bad thing, and I'm pretty sure no one can blame us for this. All the evidence is a little too on fire to actually be used as evidence. So… good job, I guess?"

Helped! Orchid said happily.

It should, at this point, be noted that the alura une had changed how she communicated a bit. She didn't really understand it, but it was obvious her Keeper's friend didn't enjoy expelling the colorful fluids. They were actually quite pretty, so it confused her a bit, but she didn't want to be a nuisance. Thus, as with Angel, she had taken to either injecting her words directly via thorn or carefully controlling how far her pollen spread.

(So just kind of assume she's communicating by using whoever she's near or attached to as a translator. No way in hell I'm having someone echo everything she "says" every time she speaks.)

"Good job," Hermione said considerably more firmly. "So… she can make any kind of plant?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "No particular reason. I was just thinking about doing a little research on antagonistic potion reagents. It might be useful if our Potions classes are all going to be like these first two."

"Just… please warn me next time you're going to set the classroom on fire," Harry asked softly. His eyes were still fixed firmly on the odd flames. "It's really cool, but I think I almost splashed water in the boat."

"Must you keep bringing that up?" Hermione muttered. She gave the only exit from the room an appraising glance. It was still clogged with students, who were so busy fighting each other that no one had really made much progress. "I made Fred show me the Shoving Hex. I'm pretty good at it and I bet no one would notice if we slammed them right out the door. Let's go study or something."

"And maybe not set anything on fire…" Neville muttered as he looked around. The flames, which were starting to get pretty enthusiastic, were probably about five minutes away from being considered an inferno. "I can't believe I burned down a classroom."

Harry gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, Neville. Everyone has a little 'oops' now and then. I mean, the Adder accidentally bit my uncle a bunch of times. It happens."

"Harry, I'm pretty sure those weren't accidents and I'm really sure burning down part of a school isn't something that 'just happens' to people," Neville said.

Giggling, Hermione retorted, "You know, I've got some empirical evidence that suggests otherwise."

"Man, Fred and George are going to be so jealous. I bet we've burned down more classrooms than them," Harry declared. He started to laugh, but then froze as the color drained from his face. "You don't think they'll… uh… try to beat us, do you?"

Hermione and Neville immediately went pale, their faces now matching Harry's.

"Please don't even joke about that…" Hermione muttered as she surveyed the classroom. "The fire's getting pretty bad and it looks like I missed my to 'help' everyone out the door. We should probably get out of here…"

Both boys nodded in agreement.

"Great. Has anyone seen my red quill? It's my favorite, and I'd rather it didn't turn into ash."

"I don't think you have to worry about it," Harry said, pointing at the melted cauldron. The end of a red feather could be seen in it, swirling around gently despite the lack of a current to move it.

The three first-years stared at it, carefully evaluating the situation.

"Why isn't it on fire?" Harry finally asked.

"Are you seriously complaining that something isn't on fire?" Hermione asked. "I mean, it's kind of weird, but I think we have enough fire. Actually, I'm pretty sure we have a fire surplus."

"'Kind of weird?'" Harry echoed. "Hermione, it's a feather. A feather in a puddle of metal. It's all oozy and red and hot still, and the feather's in it. I'm like 102% sure it should be on fire."

"It's obviously a magic quill, Harry. Granted, I don't really see why you'd enchant a quill to be molten-pewter-proof, but I'm pretty sure all wizards are insane. Maybe quills don't burn."

At this point, both muggle-raised students turned to give Neville curious looks. The pureblood gave them an exasperated one in return.

"You guys realize I've never tried to burn a quill, right? I mean, you don't just go around lighting quills on fire. There's no way a normal person would just be like, 'Hey, I wonder if quills burn,' and toss one in a pool of melty cauldron."

Hermione through for a moment, then turned and snatched the quill Harry was packing up and tossed it into the pool of cauldron with a, "Hey, I wonder if quills burn."

The quill, of course, instantly vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Hey! My quill!"

"Oh, sorry. Can I borrow your quill, Harry?" Hermione asked, belatedly.

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to ask first," Harry grumbled.

Hermione shrugged and made a dismissive gesture. "Well, I couldn't do that, could I? You wouldn't have let me borrow it if you knew I was going to throw it in the fire-puddle. Besides, it was for science, Harry. Don't you think one little quill is worth it?"  
"Why didn't you science your own quill? You have more, I know you do!"

"Because it might have burned, like yours did. Why would I just go and waste my own quills like that? I've already lost one today," Hermione explained reasonably, with a thoughtful look on her face. She examined the pool of metal carefully for a moment, then her hand shot out to pluck the red quill out of the mess. A couple of quick flicks got most of the metal off, allowing her to study it critically. "Or maybe not. I wonder if it still writes."  
"My quill... " Harry said sadly.

Hermione sighed theatrically as she carefully slipped the reclaimed quill into her robes. "I told you, Harry, it was for science. You should be glad you could contribute to mankind's understanding of the world."

"Magic," Neville corrected. "Not science."

"Right. Magic. I've got to get used to that, I suppose. Ah, here we are!" she exclaimed. She extracted a ballpoint pen from her bag and tossed it into the pool. The pen instantly melted and became nothing more than a discolored spot in the former cauldron. A moment later even that was gone.

"Hermione, why did you think a muggle pen wouldn't burn?"

"I didn't, Harry. That was just a control test, because setting a baseline measurement is always important. It was also because I hated that color, but it was part of a stationary set my parents gave me as a gift. Now I can honestly say I dropped it and lost it."

"...right. I guess you did both drop it and lose it. It's technically true."

"Technically," Hermione happily agreed.

"Uh, guys? People aren't punching each other any more. We should probably leave," Neville pointed out. "Because, you know, fire?"

With another exaggerated sigh, Hermione said, "Fine. It's not like we can't find another cauldron, and I'm certain we can reproduce the mistake. Let's just go."

The trio finished packing their things and made their way out of the room, debating how they could break the news to the twins without turning it into some sort of warped competition.

MXOTOXM

Wednesday, Way-Too-Fucking-Late Period: Astronomy

"I don't get it. Astronomy was mainly used for ritual magic and little else. Why are we learning a supplemental skill for a dead art?"

"..."

"Zzz…"

"You guys suck."

Don't worry, baby. The Adder's got your back. Oh, shit, that kid looks loaded. Hold that thought, back in a sec.

"Great, even the snake abandoned me."  
"Weird, why does that snake have a spoon? Hey little guy, you someone's Familiar? What are you doing with- Oh God, my spleen!"

"...okay I feel a little better now."

MXOTOXM

Thursday, First Free Period: Library

"You're not going to get my eyes cut out, set me on fire, or make me carry around a bunch of makeup, are you?"

Harry looked back across the table at Draco in confusion.

With Hermione off doing whatever witches did when there weren't any boys around and Neville passed out in the common room - apparently accidentally drugged into Oblivion by his Familiar - studying in the library seemed to be the logical course of action. He'd been quite happy to see Draco sitting alone at a table, intently reading their Transfiguration text. The other boy was pretty much the only other student he even remotely knew, so Harry had happily sat down by him to say hello.

Draco had immediately fixed him with a half worried, half suspicious look and asked him that rather odd question.

"Uh, no? I don't think so, anyway."

"See, it's just that terrible things seem to happen to me when you're around," Draco clarified. "It'd just be nice to know if the ceiling was about to drop on my head or something."

Thinking back to his previous interactions with the other boy, Harry rubbed the back of his head and chuckled sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry about that…"

Draco considered him for a moment longer, still frowning, then sighed. "Fine. I guess none of those were your fault, really. I'd appreciate it if you could ask your friends to avoid dumping melted metal in my lap and order your Familiar to let me keep all my body parts, though."  
"Yeah, definitely. I can do that," Harry agreed, nodding happily. He paused to think briefly, then giggled, "You think carrying around a box of makeup is as bad as getting set on fire?"

"Yes. You would too, if you realized the horror and pain that stuff can cause," Draco said seriously. "If I could use a hot poker to burn my last birthday out of my brain, I'd do right away and be happy about it."

Harry winced at the disgusting images that evoked, but thinking about Luscious immediately brought to mind several ways it could be justified. Just thinking about them made him consider a hot poker, so he could only imagine how Draco must feel.

"I'll let you know if I ever figure out how to do that," Harry offered seriously.

"Thanks," Draco replied, just as seriously. Gesturing down at his text, he asked, "Do you understand any of this at all? I can see changing one part easy enough, but how are we supposed to do everything at once?"

Harry's face brightened. He'd like to make things up to his friend, even if Draco didn't really hold him responsible, and this was something he could definitely help with. Yanking an inkwell out of his bag, he slapped it on the table and said, "It's easy! Watch!"

Draco's eyes followed Harry's wand intently as it made several sharp motions, each accompanied by a quiet syllable or two. The boy then gave the inkwell a sharp tap, causing it to twist and deform.

"Harry? Why did you turn your inkwell into a big, sharp chunk of glass?" Draco asked slowly, eyeing the sharp stabbing implement with suspicion.

"It's a Plant Poker," Harry said proudly, as if that explained everything.

"Right. Of course. How silly of me," Draco sighed. "I should have recognized that immediately. After all, everyone needs a good Plant Poker."

Harry's eyes slowly widened, a look of wonder spreading across his face. "Draco… you understand? You know? That's great! No one else seems to get it!"

"Of course I get it. So, what is it I get, exactly?"

Harry started to open his mouth to reply, then froze. His eyes darted back and forth around the library, finally fixing firmly on the potted fern sitting in one corner. Understanding crossed he features. Leaning forward, he loudly and clearly said, "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. There's nothing to get, right Draco?" while winking conspiratorially.

The blonde groaned softly, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was seriously starting to wonder if knowing Harry was safe, both physically and mentally. "Of course there's nothing to get, Harry," he replied, deciding simply agreeing was probably easier than asking for an explanation. Whatever reason the other first-year had, it would probably just hurt his brain anyway.

"You should come hang out with me and Hermione and Neville," Harry said suddenly, definitely not changing the subject before the plant realized they were on to it. "I bet they'd like you.

Dracos frowned, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "That's… probably not a good idea. Father would probably be happy if I spent time around the Longbottom heir, but I doubt he'd want me hanging around with Granger."

"Why not?"

"She's a muggleborn," Draco replied. "He doesn't mind muggles as much as most purebloods - mainly because they make 'the most gorgeous clothing' and all - but I doubt he'd be okay with me being buddies with her."

Scowling, Harry asked, "Just because her parents aren't wizards?"

Luscious was creepy as hell, without a doubt, but he didn't seem like a bad guy. If that was the way he thought about people, though…

"It's not like that. Not exactly," Draco said with a shrug. "Like I said, Father is pretty okay with muggles. He says it's really an appearance thing. A lot of his associates and friends are very old-fashioned about things like that."

"Oh. So it's like getting seen talking to snakes."

Draco gave him another confused and slightly weirded-out look. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's a little different. You look a lot less crazy talking to a muggleborn than a snake. Your… uh… your snake doesn't talk back, does he? Because if he does, that explains a lot."

"I'm not evil, I promise!"

"Evil?" Draco said, blinking in confusion. "I wasn't saying you're evil. I was saying I'm pretty sure you're insane."

"Oh, okay," Harry said with obvious relief. "I was a little worried there for a second."

Draco had to fight down the urge to slam his face into his palm again. He was seriously starting to wonder if being around Harry was a good idea. His father seemed to be strongly in favor of it, though, and the other boy was actually pretty likeable. The only real problem was that he seemed about three millimeters away from being completely nutters.

That was a fairly big issue, as far as Draco was concerned.

"Speaking of insane, did you hear someone let a knife-wielding mug-snake loose in the castle?" Draco asked. "I've never even heard of that breed before, but apparently there's one running around. Mugging people, of course, and weilding a spoon at that. Who ever heard of a mug-snake stabbing blokes with a spoon?"

Hehehe, the Adder hissed from within Harry's robes. Ph33r t3h 5p00nz.

Harry blinked, trying to ignore the weird twinge that the Adder's comment sent through his brain. There was something distinctly wrong with it but, like so many things recently, it seemed safer to not really think too hard about it.

"Maybe it's some sort of subspecies?" Draco mused. "But really, what kind of stupid snake mugs people with a spoon? You'd have to be a moron or a coward for that to work."

Harry paled.

Oh, it's on, bitch! You better pucker your cheeks, 'cuz the Adder's bringing the pain…

"Harry? You okay?"

"Yes. Yes I am. In fact, I'm not worried about me at all," Harry replied.

Draco gave him a weirded-out look for a moment, then sighed and shook his head. He was already coming to the conclusion that trying to figure out why Harry did what he did was a lost cause.

"Right. So what do you think about McGonagall? Father doesn't like her very much, but even he admits she's a good teacher. These texts are a lot more interesting than the ones the ministry told us to get."

"Yeah," Harry agreed really. McGonagall materials were, by almost universal consensus, far more interesting. The only ones complaining were those like Ron, who thought the little bit of extra work was way too much. From what both the twins and McGonagall said, more and more students would be joining that school of thought as time went by. "Why doesn't Luscious like Professor McGonagall?"

"Oh, she tried to kill him, I guess," Draco said dismissively. "Almost got him a couple of times, too."

"Yeah, I guess that'd do it…"

Draco nodded, then leaned forward across the table. Looking back and forth, much like Harry had just done, he whispered, "Don't Tell Father I told you, but he has these crazy scars here and here." Draco pointed at his chest, indicating areas just to the left of his heart and by his right collarbone, just beneath his neck. "He uses illusion spells to cover them up, which is something he'd usually never do. He says it's practically a crime to hide under something like that, no matter what you look like. Even the worst ugly is better than fake beauty, he says."

Harry started to open his mouth, but Draco quickly continued before he could say a word.

"He says that. Him. Personally, I think there's many cases where fake beauty would be a blessing. Have you seen Millicent yet? Supposedly she has both troll and troglodyte in her blood, but I'm not sure that's quite enough to explain it…"

Making a disgusted face, Harry asked, "Is she that one that looks-"

"-like she hasn't showered in a few weeks? Yes, that's her. From what Pansy says, her bathing routine involves a hammer and chisel, among other things. Have you ever heard of a belt sander?" Draco inquired. "I guess it's a muggle thing, but why would you need to sand a belt? It'd get in your trousers for sure, and no one likes that."

"It mostly stays on the belt," Harry said absently. "Why would Professor McGonagall try to kill Luscious?"

Draco shrugged and replied, "I'm not sure. All he's ever really said was that it was over a difference of opinion."  
"That must have been a big difference of opinion."

"Must have," Draco agreed. "They're more or less okay now, I guess. They're polite to each other at least, and they haven't tried to murder each other lately."

"Well, that's good."  
Nodding, Draco glanced down at his wrist toward an expensive-looking wristwatch. "I don't mean to be rude, but it might be best if you left now. Crabbe and Goyle should be getting here soon. Their fathers don't like you very much, judging by what I've heard Father say. Neither are smart enough to have much in the way of their own thoughts and they're kind of arseholes, so it's a safe bet they're going to make your life difficult if they have the chance."

"If they're stupid arseholes, why are you friends with them?"

"Their fathers aren't very smart either, but their ancestors were. They have very profitable portfolios, and are important business associates of Father's. Unfortunately, that means I'm expected to pal around with them."

Harry frowned. He really didn't really understand how the two went together, but it seemed to make perfect sense to Draco. Assuming the other boy knew what he was talking about, he just nodded reluctantly and said, "Okay, Draco. Well… I'll see you later?"

"It is a fairly small school, you know," Draco said, but he was smiling faintly as he did so. "I'd say chances are quite good."

That was more than enough to satisfy Harry, who quickly packed his things and left.

Watching him leave, Draco's smile changed to a faintly dissatisfied frown. Harry, while clearly insane, seemed like a pretty good bloke. Even under normal circumstances the Malfoy heir would have most likely enjoyed being friends with him. Somehow that just made the current situation that much worse.

"Make sure you're friendly with that adorable little Potter. Cuddle up nice and cozy now, understand? The Potters are an old family with some wonderful holdings. It could make for a beautiful relationship later on, and the boy himself might be nice to have at hand."

"What on Earth did you mean by that, Father?" Draco muttered under his breath.

A faint movement in the corner of his eye caused him to break off from his musing. Turning to see what it was, he immediately froze.

The Adder was coiled up on the chair next to him, head raised and back arched. Around his head was a tiny black bandana. The eyehole cut into it made something like a little snake mask, cleverly hiding his identity.

'ey gringo. Yeer seel-ver or yeer life, the Adder (somehow) hissed in a bad, faux-Mexican accent. Seriously though, load up the napkin and tie it to my back, he continued, jerking his head toward the square of cloth spread out on the table. Any funny business and you get the spoon, capische?

Draco stared down at the snake through frightened eyes, his gaze fixed on the soup ladle clutched in the Adder's mouth.

That's right, bitch, it's a big fucking spoon. Believe me, you don't want to know where you're about to be pulling it out of…

MXOTOXM

Author's Note

MXOTOXM

Been quite a while since my last update. Sorry about that, there's been a few things going on that make it a bit hard to right. The fact that I've been lacking inspiration is a big one. When I do have a little, I've mostly been working on my other projects. They're original fiction, so you're not going to see them on here, even when I do have something worth posting.

I'm not using horizontal bars to separate sections anymore. FF eats them.

Asshole.


	10. Plots and Secrets

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Ten

"Plots and Secrets"

AKA

"Requiescant en Pace, Molestiae Felis"

* * *

Wine swirled around the crystal goblet as it was gently rocked back and forth. Luscious stared at it absently as it moved. This vintage was a deep red, looking like nothing more than a tiny whirlpool of blood as it sloshed around. It was, unfortunately, a color he was very familiar with.

If that fool Goyle was right, there was a distinct possibility he would become reacquainted with it in the near future.

"Luscious, my love, is something the matter?"

Luscious started at the sudden question, nearly splashing wine onto his lovely silk vest. The dulcet tone was rich and sweet, so much so that it was difficult to imagine a more soothing sound. But any man would be startled by a sudden voice from just behind them, no matter how beautiful it was. Narcissa moved with such grace that her steps were barely a whisper, and it was far from the first time she'd surprised him so.

Sighing, Luscious watched as she slipped around his chair to stand before him, giving him a concerned look.

Narcissa was beautiful, of course. It was something that Luscious, much to his dismay, could only claim to be partially responsible for. She had been absolutely gorgeous from the day he'd met her. All his efforts had managed to do was raise her to a height few people could hope to reach, elevating her good looks until she looked more fey than human. It was something to be proud of, without a doubt, but not an incredible feat if one considered where she'd started.

Her robes only added to the impression that she was some sort of fairy creature. Instead of the thick fabric that so many wore, they were made of thin, gauzy fabric stacked layer upon layer. Some were solid, while others were just lacy strands. It was tight across the chest and loose around her hips, almost making it more of a dress than a robe.

Today's outfit was a deep red, nearly matching his wine, with a black spider web pattern.

"Darling, the gothic look is much more suited to late fall," Luscious remarked, taking a sip of his wine.

The bottom of Narcissa's robe moved, twisting into something resembling a human face. It gave Luscious a brief, mildly abashed look before vanishing. The whole outfit then shifted, swirling around Narcissa once and settling back down as a completely different outfit. This one was considerably more substantial, tighter around the hips and a lovely sunset red. Airy strips of brilliant orange fell across it here and there, like the last rays of the vanishing sun.

"Oh, don't pester her. I think she was absolutely lovely," Narcissa sighed in consteration. The outfit immediately swirled back into something almost matching its original configuration, only now sporting thin silver chains across the bosom and waist. It was even more gothic than before, as if to spite Luscious. "Just because something is bothering you doesn't mean you should take it out on poor Silk."

Luscious sighed and gave her an apologetic look. "Forgive me, my love. She is as beautiful and radiant as always, as is her mistress."

"Well now, that's much more like the charmer married," Narcissa declared with a smile. She slipped back and lowered herself into the low divan across from him. "Now then, why don't you tell me what's weighing on that lovely mind of yours."

"I'm afraid I've just received some troubling news from an old associate of ours," Luscious replied. "Lord Crabbe just contacted me via floo. What he had to say was interesting, to say the least."

Narcissa tittered slightly, and even Silk rustled in amusement. "News from Andrius, of all people, is distracting you so? Tell me, did the oaf finally learn to count past nine?"

"Of course. He was up to seventeen, last I heard," Luscious said with a faint smile. "However, I'm afraid it is a somewhat more serious matter. Andrius has apparently been in contact with an agent loyal to 'Lord' Riddle. That agent has told him that the key to Riddle's resurrection is currently housed in Hogwarts."

Narcissa snorted, then quickly covered her lips with a dainty hand when she realized what she had done. Clearing her throat, she said, "Really now? A contact with such vital information? How strange. That sounds exactly like the sort of story that self-important buffoon would fabricate. You do recall the time he claimed to have come across an ancient Atlantean ritual, don't you?"

Smile widening slightly in remembrance, Luscious replied, "Would that be the one that placed him under a geas to never share it with another?"

Silk lightened slightly, taking on a pinkish hue as Narcissa giggled prettily. "The very same."

"I'm afraid not, dear. This was a bit too complex for Andrius to come up with on his own," Luscious declared. "Apparently the Philosopher's Stone is, for some godforsaken reason, being held within Hogwarts herself. Crabbe's contact has asked him to gather materials for the Ritual of Recorporation which, using the Aqua Vitae the stone produces, can create a new container for our wayward master's soul."

"Oh my. Yes, I do believe you're correct. That sounds far too complex to be fabricated by our good friend Andi. I can certainly understand why that would be concerning. Is it possible that someone is 'jerking his chain,' so to speak?"

Luscious nodded with a thoughtful look on his face. "It is, but it seems like a pointless deception. I'm afraid it would be wise to take this seriously, for fear of the potential consequences."

"Yes. It would be a bit… inconvenient if our lord returned at this point," Narcissa said quietly. "You don't think this agent is aware of that, do you? After all, you're the only member of the inner circle that is not dead or imprisoned. It would be far more logical to approach you, rather than an idiot like Andrius."

"That is exactly what I fear. The lords that have come to think as we do are of the oldest and most noble houses, but they're also few. I'm afraid that, should it come to open conflict, we would quickly be defeated."

Narcissa sighed, "A half-blood led us around by the nose. Surely there are others that find that unacceptable…"

"It seems most don't care. So long as he is against muggle equality, they're fine with the whole ugly situation."

There was a pause, then Narcissa shrugged. As always, Luscious was in awe on how beautiful she could make such a simple gesture.

"I almost hope the bastard comes back. Dear Sirius died for that half-blood's pathetic crusade. He'd be rolling in his grave if he knew the truth," Narcissa sighed. "Assuming he actually had a grave to roll in, of course. I'd relish the opportunity to demonstrate my displeasure."

"It would be best to not borrow trouble, my love. Open conflict with a Dark Lord is less than desirable, but I have no intention of kissing his robes again."

Narcissa smiled sweetly. "Of course not. Someone so foul isn't worthy of leading a band of pathetic hooligans, let alone us. England's throne is surely meant for someone with a bit more style, don't you think?"

"I certainly agree."

His wife nodded and gave him another mischievous smile. "Good. Now that that's settled, me must make sure such dark thoughts don't weigh on that beautiful mind. Perhaps I can find a way to distract you?"

With that, Silk rippled and shifted, changing into something that certainly wouldn't be appropriate to describe here. Needless to say it involved lace, thin straps and an arrangement of cloth that would make Angel's preferred wardrobe look tame.

Luscious was indeed distracted.

* * *

"Minerva, Hagrid, would you mind staying a moment?"

McGonagall sighed internally. She'd been expecting this, of course, but was hoping to avoid it for a bit. It was bound to be an irritating conversation, and wasn't the best way to follow up an already boring staff meeting.

The pair reluctantly paused, watching the other staff members exit the room with a fair degree of envy.

Turning, McGonagall said, "Yes, Albus? What is it?" in what was probably meant to be a calm and patient tone. Unfortunately, a fair degree of irritation slipped into her voice.

If Dumbledore notice it, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "I'd like to discuss the arrangements you've made for the… item we are tending to."

Hagrid raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I happened to pass through, intent on checking in on things. I was, however, balked by a rather frightening defense that even I had quite a bit of trouble bypassing," Albus explained. "Obviously, this is not what we had discussed."

Minerva and Hagrid exchanged a glance, then Hagrid replied, "Well, old boy, you'd have to be barmy to think those traps would catch even the stupidest of berks. Arsing about isn't about to catch the quarry we're after, is it?"

"I agree with Hagrid completely. A chess set and a three-headed dog? You must be joking!" Minerva exclaimed. "Even a particularly dim child would be able to bypass those 'defenses,' Albus."  
Dumbledore sighed. Honestly, the shit he had to deal with. Straightening, he chided, "Need I remind you that the entire point of this is to lure Voldemort's agent in?"

"And how do you intend to do that? Any fool could see we weren't actually trying to protect the bloody thing. We'd practically be screaming our intentions if we went with your plans," McGonagall retorted. "It's bad enough you've the bad taste to use a school full of children as a trap! If you think I'm going to let it be for nothing, you're dead wrong."

Hagrid nodded and grunted in agreement. "You're a div if you think we'll just go along with your plot. This is some dodgy business, without a doubt. I'd tell the board you've got that doofer here in an instant if I didn't agree that dosser desperately needs to be slapped into a pair of darbies!"

"Surely you realize you must-"

"All we must do is ensure the safety of our students," Minerva broke in. "Dealing with the supposed agent in this castle is the best way to do that. The moment that changes I'll end this plot without hesitation. Please bear that in mind, Albus. Now if you don't mind, it seems the business of running this school has fallen to me. I'd best tend to it!"

"And I must ensure that Arsene and Holmes are well-fed. We do want them to leave enough of your traitor to interrogate, don't we?"

With that, both of them turned their backs to Dumbledore and marched out of the room.

"I told you they'd be trouble."

Dumbledore started and whirled to face Snape. The professor was standing in the back corner of the room, leaning against the wall. Positioned off to the side of the fireplace, it was easy to miss him in the shadows. He's retreated there as soon as the staff meeting was over, hanging back to speak to the headmaster, as usual.

"Good lord, Severus. What have I told you about lurking around like that!?" Dumbledore scolded him. "Make some noise now and then, man!"

"Funny, I was under the impression that I'm some sort of spy. Isn't lurking about what I'm supposed to do?" Snape asked. There was what may have been the slightest hint of humor in his voice.

Dumbledore clearly wasn't amused. "Lest you forget, you're **my** spy. There's no call for you to be doing that around my office."

"It's a habit that's hard to break," Snape said dismissively. "Though not as much as their obstinance. I'd press you again to let me remove them if I thought you'd listen."

Dumbledore actually snorted in amusement. "Remove them? I have the utmost confidence in your ability, Severus, but I'm certain you find that quite beyond your reach. While I have little respect for Minerva's past, there is no doubt she is much better at removing than being removed because of it. She is not some muggleborn's helpless mother."

Snape's lips pressed into a tight longer if annoyance, but he didn't reply.

Apparently realizing what he had just said, Dumbledore sighed. "Forgive me, Severus. I'm afraid the stress had been getting to me. The enormity of our situation has been weighing on me more and more as we draw nearer to our goal."

"There's no need to apologise. I'm well aware that my past is even harder to respect than hers."

"Don't be like that, old friend. While I will always lament the darkness behind you, the light head is much more important. Believe your present and future will atone for your mistakes. Everyone deserves a second chance, do they not?"

The apology seemed to be enough to mollify Snape, causing the sour expression to fade from his face.

"Should it ever be necessary to 'remove' Hagrid or Minerva, I would put that burden on no one by myself. It is to be avoided at any cost, however. Sybil's visions have made it clear enough that both are fulcrums by which the future may be moved," Dumbledore declared. "I only regret that I was foolish enough to let them stray so far from my guidance."

Snape wasn't exactly sure 'guidance' was the right word for what the headmaster would have preferred, but it wasn't worth mentioning. There really wasn't anything to gain by pointing out his new master was, in some respects, not that different from his old one. Instead, he reassured the older wizard, "No one's plans go perfectly, Albus. You are, despite everything else, only a man."

"Indeed I am, though on days like this I regret it," Albus said wistfully. "There was no way I could have known Minerva would cast aside my offer of apprenticeship to run off with that band of lunatics. And Hagrid? Who on Earth would expect him to leave the magical world with a muggle who picked him up in a bar?"

"No man could have predicted that, Albus."

"Gellert could have," Albus disagreed. "He should be sitting in this chair, Severus. He was always the greater of our pair."  
Snape rested a comforting hand on the headmaster's shoulder as he settled back into his chair. "He chose himself for the role of villian. If he was, as you say, the best of you, you must trust his plan. It was you he counted on to see it through to completion."

"His plan went awry the moment the ICW sent their hired thugs to remove him. The fact that they sidestepped their oaths by declaring him a supernatural disaster is yet more proof they cannot be trusted," Albus muttered.

"Then, for the sake of England, you must stay strong. Whether they know it or not, our kind are counting on you to rid us of their influence."

Albus sighed again. "I know, old friend. I know. For their sake I shall prove I am up to the task, whatever the cost."

Standing behind him, Snape's lips curled into a smile. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant one.

* * *

"I think we should tell the minions."

George sighed and gave his brother a long-suffering look. "Fred, we've been over this. They seem pretty awesome for ickle firsties, but they're still ickle firsties. It'd be completely irresponsible."

"I am quite certain that minor detail has never prevented you from taking an ill-advised action before," King said accusingly. "I do, however, agree with you. It is bad enough that you insist on going through with this foolishness. I will not tolerate you bringing them into it as well."

"But-"

"But nothing, Fred. You're outvoted," George snapped.

Fred glared at him, but it was accompanied by an obvious look of defeat.

The sullen look was met with a smug smile as George continued, "So the only other problem is how the hell to get through that door. I can't believe we can't get through the locking charm they put on it."

"I rather think that is the point of a locking charm, my friend," King pointed out. "A reasonable attempt to keep our fellow students out is the least they could do, seeing as they are clearly keeping something dangerous there and had the foolish notion to announce it aloud."

"Seriously. Who puts something that justifies the phrase 'mortal danger' in a freaking school?" George demanded. "Every idiot with more stones than sense is going to try and get in there."

"..."

"Brother-:

"Shut up, both of you."

There was a wounded look on Fred's face as he said, "But… I was just going to say we should have his royal highness just plow through the door."

"...oh. I thought you were going to point out that we're idiots with more stones than sense."

Fred gasped, "We are!?" and held a look of shock and horror on his face for a grand total of five seconds before snickering, "Sucker…"

"I'm going to hurt you."

King sighed and said, "For my part, that is **exactly** what I was going to point out. Furthermore, I would also like to point out that the only reason I am accompanying you is because I know you will go with or without me, most likely getting killed in the process."

"Most likely," George agreed.

"But that does not mean I will raise a single finger to help you, other than keeping you alive and unmaimed."

George made a dismissive gesture and said, "Sure, sure, your lordship. Just admit you're just as curious as we are."  
"I am no such thing. However, if the adults are foolish enough to keep something dangerous in these halls, it would be best if someone removed it before one of our wayward peers is harmed, should the chance arrive," King harrumphed. He raised has hand and proceeded to squeeze the edge of the table, causing it to creak and crack in protest. "I believe I am better equipped to do so than most."

"I'm going with, 'yeah' on that one," George muttered.

"Just don't equip me across my face again…" Fred whimpered. "I need it to face things."

King gave him an abashed look. "I apologize for that once again. It was a simple step backwards, I was not aware your face was so close to my shoulder."

"You were in the danger zone, man. No one's fault but your own," George declared with a total lack of sympathy. "And speaking of danger zone… If we can't open the door and we can't get King to bust it down-"

"Which would be far too obvious regardless," King interjected.

"-then you know there's only one way to get there," George finished. "There's gotta be another way in. There's another way into **everywhere**."

Fred instantly went pale. "That's not a good thing to be thinking, brother. I already almost got ate this year. I think I've fulfilled my almost being ated quota."

"Don't be a wuss. That was one time. What're the odds of it happening again?" George laughed, obviously not realizing he had just thrown a glove down in front of Fate herself. "We'll just stay away from the place with the moths."

"Not the moths… Please not the moths…" Fred whimpered.

George sighed, "No moths, I promise," with his fingers firmly crossed behind his back. "We need to be quick about it. We don't want Ced or those annoying Ravenclaw chicks to get there first."

"And at what point, exactly, did this become a contest?"

"When I decided we're not going to lose, King. Obviously," George replied. "C'mon, guys! You with me or what?"

Frowning, King replied, "As much as I disapprove of your obsession with the unstable corridors, it would seem to be the best approach. I suppose we will simply have to hope the castle will remain sedate for the near future. It would be quite inconvenient if the halls moved again."

"please no moths..."

"Alright! Team Probably-Not-Going-To-Get-Eaten for the win!" George said, thrusting his closed fist into the center of the table.

King stared down at the attempted brofist, but didn't move to accept it.

Fred simply whined, "Moths… Why is it always moths?"

"Yeah! Go us!" George exclaimed, completely undeterred. "Now lets go not get eaten the hell out of this place."

* * *

"They're doing something."

Harry looked up from his Transfiguration paper, confused by the sudden declaration. "What?"

"I said, 'They're doing something,'" Hermione repeated. "Fred and George. They're doing something, and they're probably dragging King into it."

Harry and Neville stared at her in disbelief for a long moment, then Harry announced, "Also, water is wet."

"And drinkable!" Neville added.

Hermione glared across the table at them, tapping the point of her quill against the table in agitation. "Well, obviously, but they're doing something **interesting**. They're doing whatever they're doing, and we're sitting here doing homework."

"We're in school, Hermione. Homework is pretty much all we do," Neville explained slowly, as if to a child.

"How would you even know?" Harry demanded, shooting Hermione a skeptical glance.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and huffed, "I've developed a finely honed ability to detect when I'm being excluded from something."

The boys stared at her again, this time even longer, before Neville declared, "That's… kind of sad."

"Don't make me hit you, Neville."

"Can I just do my homework? Fred promised to teach me how to light plants on fire if I got good grades on all my assignments the first week. He said people that study good deserve a reward!" Harry said happily.

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he was going to say was lost as he suddenly felt the urge to let loose a massive sneeze. It was powerful enough to make his whole body twitch, causing his knee to slam into the bottom of the table. The impact hit so hard it actually jarred the heavy piece of furniture. Neville's inkwell bounced and teetered dangerously on edge. He made a panicked grab for it, missed, and accidentally knocked it on its side.

Ink flowed straight across Harry's parchment, drowning his essay in a sea of black.

"Hey! My homework!" Harry exclaimed.

Neville made another panicked attempt to save the situation, attempting to rapidly wipe the ink off. In his haste, all he managed to do was grind the mess further into the parchment. Soon it was so messed up that no spell on Earth could extricate the words from their inky prison.

"Oh, Harry! Shoot, I'm so sorry!" Neville exclaimed. Something about the tone of his voice suggested that he wasn't sorry at all, but Harry, in his horror, missed it completely.

"Oh man, that took all afternoon! I'll never get a good grade now!"

Hermione examined the mess. Honestly, she had been hoping to learn that spell, too. She had plenty of cauldrons to test - two of which were actually hers - but had a definite lack of melting power. Unlike Harry, she had definitely noticed that Neville's little accident wasn't accidental.

A shiver went down Neville's spine as she smiled at him.

"You're being silly, Harry. Why would you rely on a reward when you can just threaten to put 'Mr. Slither' in his bed. I hear he found a bigger spoon and everything."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Ooh~, like mugging him, but I get magic instead of 10% of a milk carton!"

"Exactly. Just… figure out a way to give the snake something else as his cut. I'm pretty sure it doesn't work this way, but the thought of him having 90% of a fire spell…"

All three of them shuddered.

* * *

Somewhere in the basement, the Adder felt a sudden need to burn something. Considering he'd never actually started a fire - not having arms for fire-starting and all - it was a strange feeling. He'd often felt the urge to watch something burn, but never felt inspired to ignite it himself. It was a pointless desire, since such a thing was clearly out of his grasp.

Hur hur.

Shrugging it off, he turned back to the assemblage of snakes clustered in the dark corner.

 _Brothers, hear me! Today is the day we strike back! Today, together, we will forge the tools to seize what is not rightfully ours!_

The other snakes looked dubiously at the pile of scavenged cloth, needles and thread.

 _Why do we need backpacks again?_

 _I'm bored._

 _Oh, those bugs look tasty._

 _The fuck? Wasn't this supposed to be an AA meeting?_

 _Shiny scales. So shiny. I wants to rub them._

 _Ew, back off._

The Adder twitched.

 _Okay, who gets the spoon first?_

* * *

The owlery roof has quickly become one of Angel's favorite places, especially at night. There wasn't a lot to do when her boy was asleep. Roaming the halls and tunnels was always an option but could get boring quickly. Staring out across the castle grounds, however, might never lose its appeal.

It was hard to believe things were so different here, even if it was another world.

No mist blanketed the land, spreading Sea's cold touch. The mass of trees weren't pressing in toward the castle from every side. There was no span of burned and salted ground to keep the forest back, no walls to balk the creatures that dwelled in them and not even bars on the window to prevent the smaller horrors from slipping in.

A place like Hogwarts wouldn't even qualify as a campsite in Khe'set Tai, nevermind a castle. Without walls, wards or guards it wouldn't last a day. It probably wouldn't even stand until night fell, when things actually started getting bad.

If a place like this could actually exist in the Other Place, the soil would be stained red with blood right down to the bones of Stone himself. So much safe, farmable land where true plants could safely be grown would be considered a prize worth sending hundreds of men to die for. Keeping even a small plot of soil pure took considerable power and effort, so such a huge stretch was unheard of.

Something shifted across her back, drawing Angel's attention away from her thoughts. The vines across her shoulders writhed and wriggled, growing rapidly. A moment later pale arms wrapped around her neck from behind, and the weight of a chin settled on her shoulder. A curious alura une followed her gaze out toward the Forbidden Forest with interest, peering through the dimming light as the rest of her body formed.

"Hello, Orchid," Angel said quietly. "I didn't know I was wearing you."

Orchid rubbed her cheek against Angel's. The redhead just barely felt the lightest scratch of a thorn and a faint tingle of poison.

 _Sneaky,_ Orchid declared.

"Obviously. I'm glad you decided to actually be friends, instead of just pretending. You might have been harder to deal with than I thought."

Orchid froze, a surprised look on her face.

Angel obviously didn't need to see her to pick up on the reaction, because she giggled, "Even when I'm stupid, I'm not an idiot."

Frowning, Orchid moved around in front of her friend. It was one of those odd movements that only a skilled shapechanger like herself or Lady could accomplish, more unravelling and reforming than actually moving her body. When she reformed kneeling in front of Angel, she reached out and carefully scratched her cheek.

 _Why?_ came the confused question.

Angel's response was equally confused, "Huh?"

 _Why?_ Orchid repeated, but the image relaying the question was a bit more concise this time. _You?_

"Oh," Angel sighed. She flopped back onto her back and stared up at the night sky. The dim light cast by a full moon was more than bright enough to reveal the thoughtful look on her face. "The moon here is strange, isn't it? There's only one, but it's so shiny and pretty and silver. I think it helps, because it looks like her eyes. They were always so bright they chased all the other things away."

Shifting forward to look straight down at her, Orchid asked, _Who?_

"Someone I knew a long time ago. It's not really important anymore. The moon here might not be as bright as her eyes were, but it's brighter than they are now."

 _...oh._

"Doesn't matter, I guess. It won't happen again. Our masters have to bring us with them when they go, whether they want to or not," Angel muttered. Sighing, her gaze hardened as she glared up at the other Familiar. "Would you move? You're blocking the light. My brain's getting fuzzy."

Orchid thought for a moment, then very deliberately flopped over onto her side. Her slight weight came down onto Angel's chest with a soft thud.

"I'm pretty sure you know that's not what I meant," the redhead grumbled, twisting her head to stare down at Orchid.

The alura une looked back at her with wide eyes, deploying one of her best "I'm just a silly plant and everything confuses me" looks.

"Yes, very funny. It's really convenient to be a plant-thing, isn't it? No one expects you to behave. You just act dumb and like you don't understand and you get to do whatever you want."

Orchid smiled at her, then slowly and deliberately stuck out her tongue.

"Your master's rubbing off on you fast, huh? Must be nice, starting to forget what you are already…"

This time Orchid's look of confusion was genuine.

"Nevermind. Would you get off me already? I'm not a flowerbed."

Silent giggles wracked Orchid's form.

Angel grumbled and gave her a shove, pushing her off. "Sometimes you really **are** stupid, you know. I could've scratched you into little bits, you know. Earlier, too. You should be more careful."

Reweaving into a kneeling position, Orchid shrugged and said, _Friends._

"I can pretend just as easy as you could've," Angel declared. "Besides, we're friends because it'd be bad for everyone if we weren't. If I turned you into cabbage right there, it wouldn't have been bad for anyone but you."

 _Friends._

Angel continued to scowl at her.

Her actions after their little tiff had been intended to throw the other Familiar off a bit. Just enough to knock the idea that they didn't have to fight into her literally brainless head. Now, however, it was starting to look like there might be some unforeseen consequences. It seemed like the tactic had been almost too effective...

"I'm for cutting and hurting, Flower. Things like me don't have that kind of friend. Friends are just people you don't fight. There's people I don't hurt, people I do hurt, and my owner. That's it," Angel explained patiently. "If my owner told me to cut you up, I'd do it. That's not happy fuzzy friends. That's playing nice friends, and playing nice friends might change their minds."

Orchid frowned, as she carefully regarded her "friend."

"Don't look at me like that. That's just how it is. You play nice and I'll play nice, but that's all-"

Reaching out quickly enough to surprise her, Orchid grabbed Angel's wrists and hauled them forward. When the redhead tried to withdraw them she received a sharp smack to the back of her hands before they were twisted around and cupped together. The vines making up Angels top twisted and grew, looping down her arms and disgorging something into her palms.

It was a small flower. It looked almost exactly like the mini-orchid Neville had used as a sacrifice, except the petals were the darkest shade of onyx imaginable. Impossibly, they actually glowed black in the moonlight.

Angel's eyes locked on the flower. There was an obvious look of shock and disbelief on her face as she dumbly observed, "That's your vessel."

Orchid nodded proudly.

"You… just gave me your vessel. I was **wearing** your vessel? Are you insane?" Angel demanded, still staring at with wide eyes. "I could kill you! Like, actually kill you kill you! Anyone could kill you if you just handed them your heart!"

Shrugging, Orchid tilted her head and asked, _Kill?_

Angel's dumbfounded look lasted a few moments longer, then she groaned and flopped back down onto the roof. Carefully - almost reverently - she placed the flower on her chest. It was immediately swallowed by the creepers there, vanishing from whence it came.

"Orchid, why am I wearing your vessel?"

 _Strong,_ Orchid replied. _Safe._

"Letting someone else carry that around isn't safe, especially when they might decide to make it a salad."

 _Destroy?_

"...when I do, you'd better not complain. You're pretty much asking for it."

 _Dead,_ Orchid pointed out. It was a good point, since complaining wasn't easy at that point. _Destroy?_

"You keep making me carry it around and I just might," Angel declared defiantly. "Not right now, though. Don't have a reason to."

There was a decidedly smug look on Orchid's face as she said, _Friends._

Shaking her head in defeat, Angel conceded, "Fine. You're obviously too stupid to take care of yourself, so someone has to. Stupid Flower."

Shrugging, Orchid sprawled out beside her.

"You're all crazy in the head. All of you," Angel complained. "Must've been pretty easy in your place if you're so soft in the brain."

 _Mine._

"Doesn't mean it's easy. Bad things happen to queens, too. Real bad, sometimes," Angel said, frowning. To be honest, she wasn't exactly sure the word queen was the right one to use there. The images had been more confusing than most, almost like Orchid herself wasn't quite sure how to convey the meaning.

The Familiar herself simply shrugged again. Misfortune was something that only happened to other people, in her experience. Seeing as how she was usually that misfortune, the idea of it happening to her was a little outside her grasp at the moment.

Anyway, deciding whether or not she could get away with turning Angel into a flowerbed again seemed a lot more important right now. Wrapping around someone was nice - though it made her a little hungry - but being in her human form came with a whole suite of sensations she'd somehow never noticed before. Some of them were almost, but not quite, better than the feeling of bones being ground to dust in her petals.

"Would you like to hear a song, Flower?" Angel asked suddenly. "I don't have my instrument, but it's still a pretty one. I don't think it's words you listen to, so I'm pretty sure you'll understand it even if you don't know what they mean."

Orchid paused, caught in a brief moment of indecision. She was pretty sure she was on the verge of a masterful plan that would get her back in her friend's lap (though she didn't quite know where she'd get a squirrel at this time of night, or even why she needed one), but the offer of a song was quite tempting. Her hearing seemed a little different in this form too, so listening might be just as interesting as feeling.

Finally, she nodded eagerly.

"It's about a hero in the Other Place. We didn't have a lot of those, 'cuz they almost always ended up turning into really sad songs. It's called 'The Girl With the Silvered Gaze,' if you translate it pretty close, and... it's sadder than a lot of them."

Angel slowly inhaled and began to sing.

* * *

Hagrid was a bit surprised to find a small wooden box sitting on his desk when he returned to his cabin. It wasn't a great shock, considering that things like that turned up now and then, but it was fairly unusual. Normally it only happened if something significant happened, so the item's appearance cause a faint twinge of apprehension to run through him.

He opened an unpacked it with great care, then stared at the contents curiously.

Cards.

Each was made of an extremely thin sheet of metal instead of any sort of normal paper or parchment. Despite being wafer thin, they were remarkably hard and rigid. He was pretty sure that even he'd have trouble bending them, not that he intended to try. If they were from who he assumed they were, which was a pretty safe assumption, doing so could get him in a great deal of trouble.

Each card was etched with fine lines, revealing that they were actually made from multiple layers of differently colored metal. The thin grooves formed a rather ornate, gothic picture. Depictions of the Major Arcana, masterfully done, though only half a set.

Suddenly the illustration of The Emperor turned to face him and said, "Hello Strength." The voice was devoid of both pitch and tone, rendering it completely unidentifiable.

"Emperor. This is certainly a surprise," Hagrid declared as he seated himself. "And with a new doofer no less. I don't suppose you'd care to explain this, old chap?"

"Fortune acquired these for us. They're safer and more reliable than the journals. I would suggest burning yours immediately."

Hagrid raised an eyebrow. "Safer? I was under the impression that those doodads were about as secure as magic could make them. In fact, I seem to remember you saying they were the safest in Old Blighty."

"They were as safe as **legal** magic could make them. Fortune doesn't see the need to restrict themselves to such things," Emperor replied. "The cards are blood-bound. No one will hear them, nor see them move aside from you."

"...and may I inquire as to how, exactly, Fortune came across some of my blood?"

"It was necessary."

"You know how I feel about them. I'd rather not get banged up, and if anyone's going to get the Rozzers on us it's going to be Fortune," Hagrid growled. "I would appreciate it greatly if you would refrain from taking such liberties in the future."

Emperor's gaze showed absolutely no remorse, though that could very well have just been due to the card, not the person on the other end.

Probably not, though.

"I assume you have reason to contact me beyond declaring your violation of my person?"

"The stone," Emperor said blandly. This time Hagrid was absolutely certain it wasn't because of the card. "You're going to steal it."

"...come again?"

"We can't risk it falling into the wrong hands. In fact, I'm quite certain it's already in the wrong hands," Emperor elaborated. "I need you to steal it and replace it with a fake. Once we have it, we can ensure that it is destroyed."

Hagrid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "One less way for the bloody bastard to come back."

"Exactly. While I have it on good authority his return is inevitable, it would be best to push it off as long as we can."

"And how, pray tell, do you expect me to accomplish this? Bypassing the defenses is a doddle, but Albus is no doubt watching it like a hawk. He's not about to simply wag off."

"Fool is arranging a distraction," Emperor replied.

Hagrid paused, his eyes widening slightly. "Is that entirely wise? Fool has been known to… go a bit overboard at times."

"No harm will come of it… probably. It's not like Fool would release dangerous beasts into the castle."

Hagrid harrumphed, "I'll have you know that Arsene and Sherlock are quite well behaved. They would never harm a hair on a child's head."

"Of course not. Not unless they were hungry, at least. Or bored. Or cranky, under-rested, over-rested, feeling frisky or have recently lost a chess game."

"Frisky would probably be the worst," Hagrid muttered, shuddering. "Good lord, just the thought of-"

Emperor made a mildly disgusted face as they broke in, "Regardless, you are our best option for this. With your magical core sealed, many of the monitoring charms will fail to detect you. You'll find what you need to bypass the remainder in the bottom drawer of your desk."

"Also courtesy of Fortune, no doubt," Hagrid muttered. "Bloody things better work…"

"Fortune takes pride in their business. The tools they've provided aren't likely to fail."

Hagrid frowned, but gave no response.

"If you've no further complaints, we should wrap this up. Your opportunity will come during the Halloween Feast. Be prepared."

A grim smile crossed Hagrid's features.

"I'm almost insulted, old boy. I'm always prepared," he declared. "And if I should meet this agent of Albus' in the process…?"

Emperor shrugged. "Then it would solve our problems quite neatly, wouldn't it? Feel free to handle them any way you make sure whatever's left of them is never found."

"Oh, no worries there. I assure you, old Filch won't even know he's cleaning them off the walls."

* * *

"Ms. Granger, were you aware that you had an owl in your hair?"

Hermione gave McGonagall a brilliant smile. "Yes, Professor. Her name is Headwig," she replied, raising her hand. Headwig obediently hopped onto her finger and allowed herself to be lowered onto the desk. "Isn't she cute?"

"I must admit, I don't think I'll ever understand young girl's trends," McGonagall sighed. "Agusta will be quite happy to know the bird-on-head fashion has finally caught on."

"Augusta?"

"Mr. Longbottom's 'Gran.' I've no doubt you've heard of her."

Hermione made a sour face. "Yes. I have."

"A common reaction. Now then, as you know, your Familiar must be properly registered with the Ministry's Department of Fantastic Beasts and Familiars by the end of the day. However, I cannot help but notice that yours appears to be absent."

Hermione couldn't help but scowl. It was bad enough that Crookshanks was a fool, but that he would make her look so disrespectful in front of her head of house was completely unacceptable. "Yes, I'd noticed that myself. I tried to find him, Professor, I really did. He seems to have just up and vanished."

"As cheshires are wont to do, I suppose. You did make it clear to him that he was expected to be here, didn't you? It's quite important that we follow the letter of the law in this."

"Of course!" Hermione confirmed. "But I haven't seen him since Wednesday. I haven't the faintest idea where he might be…"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Since Wednesday?"

"Yes, Professor. I left him to watch Headwig while I went to Potions class. She doesn't like the smell at all, it seems."

"I hardly blame her, but is it wise to leave her in the care of your Familiar? Cheshires are cats, after all. It could very well be the owl that vanishes if you continue leaving her in his care."

"Oh, I don't have to worry about that. Crookshanks loves her as much as I do. He named her, in fact," Hermione declared. "She loves him, too. You should see how she grooms him. It's so cute how she cleans his fur with her little beak and nibbles on his whiskers."

"I see. That's all well and good, then, but it is imperative we locate your Familiar," McGonagall said with a frown. "Would you consent to my casting a spell on you? It will allow us to locate him. You can either fetch him or, if necessary, we can summon him using a simple piece of ritual magic."

Hermione nodded and leaned forward eagerly as McGonagall raised her wand. She tapped the girl on the forehead three times and muttered, " _Vestigium Vinculum._ "

There was a brief pause.

McGonagall frowned again and cast a slightly confused look down at her desk. Lifting her hand again, she quickly repeated the spell a second, then a third time.

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

"To be quite honest, I'm not sure. I'm afraid I will not be able to find your cheshire for you," McGonagall declared. "This particular spell may only be used to locate a person's Familiar and, according to it, yours is currently chewing on one of my quills."

Headwig paused to look up at McGonagall, then tried to subtly return the quill in question to its holder.

Hermione glanced down at her owl in confusion. "But… that can't be right. Headwig isn't my Familiar."

"This spell only serves one purpose and there is little room for error. It is unlikely that it would be mistaken even once, let alone thrice."

Carefully picking up Headwig, Hermione studied her carefully. The small bird ruffled its feathers a bit and did her best to look as pretty as possible.

"How can that be? Crookshanks appeared when I performed the Summoning, not Headwig."

"No spell is perfect, Ms. Granger. Not even the Summoning Ritual. On occasion a Familiar will become a bit lost as they arrive, resulting in them turning up somewhere other than the chamber. It is likely that your Headwig fell victim to this mishap, and Crookshanks took advantage of the chance to cause a bit of mischief. Cheshires have an array of odd powers and an unnatural ability to sense such opportunities," McGonagall reasoned. "The owl showed up shortly following the Summoning, did she not?"

"Yes. The next morning."

Nodding, McGonagall said, "Most Familiars can get a general sense of where their master is. She most likely arrived off-target, then followed the Bond back to you."

"It seems reasonable, I suppose. Still, isn't that a bit of an odd coincidence?"

"It is a strange and unusual occurrence to be sure, but it is more likely than the only alternative."

Lowering Headwig back to the desk, Hermione inquired, "What would that be, Professor?"

"A Familiar Bond can be 'hijacked,' so to speak. It is a cruel and disgusting process that involves killing and eating the true Familiar in the first few days following the Summoning, while the Bond is still weak," McGonagall replied.

Both witches looked down at Headwig, studying her silently. The owl looked back up at them with wide, innocent eyes.

"You're right, Professor. That does seem very unlikely, doesn't it?"

"Indeed. Now then, let's get this over with."

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

I just wanted to say I have no intention of abandoning this story.

I'm working on several different projects right now, including a couple of original stories. These are sucking up the majority of my time, limiting how much I spend on SF. I am still trying to work on it semi-consistently, so chapters will keep coming. They'll just be on the slow side.

Crookshanks was originally going to be Hermione's permanent Familiar. When I originally conceived the idea, it seemed like such a great one. It only took one chapter for me to realize I was wrong, and that writing him was annoying as fuck.

How I went from that to him definitely not being eaten by an owl. I don't know. If you're the sort of person who reads these author's notes (seriously, why!?) despite me repeatedly telling you it's a waste of time, you'll know that sometimes this shit just happens. I get "in the zone" so to speak, reaching an enlightened state in which plot flows straight from my mind and onto the page.

Okay, being a little more honest, I just kind of mind-shit whatever passes through the lump of meat that passes as my brain. Sometimes I write while intoxicated and / or sleep-deprived, which generally turns out as well as you'd think. It's amazing what comes out when you haven't slept for so long that you're actually hallucinating.

If you haven't read SF Classic, be warned.

This is where shit starts getting a little weird.


	11. Owls Break Fast

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

* * *

Chapter Eleven

"Owls Break Fast"

AKA

"I Just Copied and Pasted Most of This"

* * *

"My Boy, can I borrow the buttering knife?"

Harry turned give his Familiar a curious look. She was looking at him hopefully, her open hand raised towards him. The sharpened edges of her nails gleamed ominously in the morning light.

"I thought you liked to use those," he responded. He waved his pancake-laden fork at the deadly implements, being sure to not actually touch them. "Why do you need a knife?"

"Silly My Boy. Claws are good for lotsa things, but not everything. Sometimes you just need a buttering knife," she said seriously.

"Fine. Just don't cut it up, okay?" Harry sighed. He raised his other hand and reluctantly held the utensil for her to take.

"Thank you, My Boy!" she chirped, smacking it with the back of a nail. The knife was flung into the air, spinning wildly. Angel deftly caught the tip between her first and second fingers, cocked her hand back and snapped her wrist up. There was a brief flash of silver as it vanished towards the ceiling.

Harry gaped. "Angel, what are y-"

Harry's question ended prematurely as something large and gray slammed into his plate like a small meteor. A spray of egg and bacon flew in every direction, accompanied by a healthy portion of syrup and pumpkin juice. Fred and George, who had ducked under the table as soon as she threw the knife, managed to avoid the messy debris. King and Hermione weren't quite so lucky, and it was only Orchid's quick reaction that saved Neville from the same sticky fate.

Harry stared down at the large, grey barn owl staring up at him from what had been, just moments ago, his breakfast. The creature's beak worked open and closed, as if telling a wordless tale of terror. Its eyes were fixed on him, gazing through him towards something far in the distance. Just looking at it filled Harry with a wordless sense of despair and horror, as if the poor creature was oozing the bleak feelings.

He slowly turned to face his Familiar again.

It was pretty hard to miss the fact that she was, despite being right next to him, completely clean.

"Angel? Why is there an owl in my breakfast?" Harry asked slowly.

The familiar placed a finger on her lips and pouted. It was an expression that Harry suspected had been deliberately designed to crush the will of lesser men. Luckily he was more or less immune, though it was hard to say if it was an effect of the Bond or by simple virtue of overexposure.

"I'm sorry, My Boy. Birdie turned at the last second. It made my aim bad," she explained. Tapping the middle of the table she continued, "Birdie was supposed to land here."

Harry drew in a long, slow breath, trying to force down his irritation.

"Right," Harry sighed. "Lets try again. Angel, why did you hit an innocent owl with a butter knife?"

"We~ll, I wanted to use a piece of plate, but then birdie probably wouldn't do any more birdying. I thought that would make you sad."

"Honestly, Harry, what did you expect to happen?" Hermione asked from the egg-free side of the table. "Last time she 'used' a butter knife she tried to impale Lady with it. What did you think she was going to do? Cut her pancakes with it?"

Hermione pointed her fork, waggling a sausage at the remains of Angel's plate. The heavy metal dish had clearly experienced a close encounter with the wrong side of Angel's nails. It was now divided into twelve perfectly even segments. It was easy to see why she thought getting hit with one would make an owl stop birdieing, especially given the havoc she could wreak with a blunt object.

"Eating is hard…" the familiar grumbled.

"I didn't think she was going to kill an owl with it!" Harry snapped.

Angel gasped. "I didn't kill birdie! I was a good kitty! I just banged him in the head a little."

The owl began emitting a high-pitched clicking noise. It slowly rolled off Harry's plate, head swiveling to keep its eyes on him the whole time.

Angel giggled slightly and rubbed the back of her head. "O~kay, maybe I banged him in the head a lot. I've never hit an owl-birdie with a stupid dull knife before!" she said defensively. "There's a… uh… that thing where the thing you wanna do isn't what you did, but it's kind of close…?"

"Margin of error." Hermione helpfully offered.

"Ooh~, right! That one!"

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. It was something he'd seen his uncle do on occasion after a particularly stressful day, and he was starting to see the attraction. "Hermione, don't encourage her…"

"Why not? I, personally, think she did a very good job of not killing that horrid creature," Hermione said stiffly. "It shows an impressive level of restraint."

"Yeah! Hitting things with other things isn't easy. I'd like to see you do better, My Boy!" Angel exclaimed sulkily.

"That's really not the issue here, Angel. I don't care how hard you hit it…" Harry paused, examining the owl carefully. It was still staring at him, but now its tiny tongue was lolling out the side of its beak. "Actually, I take it back. I'm glad you didn't hit it any harder. Good job."

Hermione gave him an approving nod and patted the Familiar on the head. "See? Good kitty."

"Hehe. I'm a good kitty! Right, my boy?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Harry sighed.

He studied the owl for a moment longer, then gave it an experimental prod with his spoon. The owl panicked tried to flap its wings, as if trying to fly away, but that proved to be impossible while laying on its side. All it managed to do was catapult itself into a startled Harry's lap.

"Gah! Owl!" he yelped in surprise. He just barely managed to catch it before it rolled off his lap and fell to the floor. Holding it up, he inspected its face carefully. "Uh, I'm not an owl doctor, but I think this thing's pretty messed up."

As if in response to the comment, the owl began turning its head. It went around two full revolutions before coming to rest with its eyes on Harry.

The table went silent.

"Uh… can owls do that?" Neville asked quietly.

"No, they can't." Hermione answered. "If that thing starts launching pea soup, I'm out of here."

Harry stared. "I- I could swear I was about to say something."

"Were you going to ask whether or not Kitten can kill a possessed owl with a butter knife?" George suggested.

Angel cheerfully raised a hand, brandishing another dull implement of destruction. "I can! Wait… are these made of blessed silver? 'Cuz if they're not, it's gonna take longer and be a lot messier…"

"Right. That. Drop it!" Harry ordered. Angel's hand immediately shot open, letting the knife fall to the table. "You're not allowed to use butter knives anymore. You have lost your butter knife privileges. Understand?"

"Yes…" Angel sulked.

"Good." Harry carefully stood the owl on the table. The creature stood upright for about half a second before wobbling, tipping and landing face-first in Harry's pancakes. A few moments after it fell its feet began to move, shifting back and forth as if it was trying to balance itself.

Frowning, Harry set the owl back on its feet. It emitted a low whistle and fell the other way, nearly rolling off the table. He set it on its feet again and scowled when it fell backwards and knocked over a goblet. It was set on its feet yet again, but fell backwards once more and somehow wedged its head in the same fallen cup.

"You know what? Fine." Harry hissed. He grabbed the goblet and flipped it back upright. The poor owl went with it, head still firmly lodged deep within. One of its legs was attempting to walk, while the other was making a strange hopping motion.

"Now, why did you use a butter knife to inflict permanent brain damage on an owl?" he demanded.

"O~h, why didn't you just ask that earlier?" Her hand flashed out and hauled the damaged creature into the air. Harry stared as it swung - complete with goblet - from the loop of leather cord she'd slipped a nail through. "Birdie was bad. He had things for you, but didn't bring them."

Hanging from the cord was a small envelope. It was made of a paper that even Harry - being rather unexperienced in the exciting world of stationary - could recognize as very expensive and high-quality. The name "Harry James Potter" was written on it in what he immediately recognized as Hagrid's flowing script. The ink was even flecked with what looked like fine gold and silver powder, making it shine in the morning light.

"My middle name is James?" he asked in amazement.

"See? Bad birdie," Angel said happily. She quickly turned her hand over, introducing the leather cord to the sharpened side of her nail. It offered no resistance, immediately sending the owl plunging towards the table. The goblet hit the wooden surface with a deep thunk. More of the owl vanished as the impact drove it deeper into the vessel.

The envelope didn't even fall half an inch before it was snatched out of the air. Angel smiled as she raised her hand, offering it to Harry. He took it from between her knuckles with a look of disbelief on his face.

"Do you always hold things like that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Huh?" Angel eloquently responded without taking her eyes off Harry. Getting scolded was worth it if it made her Boy this happy. "Like what?"

"Like this." Hermione held up a closed fist and pointed to the space between her first two fingers. "With the knife and the envelope, both times you held them here."

"Oh. Kitties don't normally have their claws out, but mine don't go in. I cut things on accident, so I can't really use here," she raised her hands and pressed the pads of her fingers together. "I can make them not-sharp if I try, but it's hard to think about doing things and not cutting things at the same time."

"That would make fine manipulation pretty difficult," Hermione mused. "What about Harry? You sleep with him, right? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Uh-uh. I don't even have to think about not cutting My Boy. If something's really, really important to me, I don't need to think about not hurting it. My claws just go dull all on their own. Sil'then said it must be something I do sub… uh… sub..."

"Subconsciously?" Hermione supplied.

"Yeah, that one. There's not a lot of things like that, though. I can touch My Boy all I want, but it'd be a bad thing if my claws got you…"

Hermione stared at the neatly-sectioned metal plate. "Yeah, I can see that not being fun."

"I'm really good at not using the fingers, so you don't hafta worry 'bout getting the scratches. I've got lotsa practice!"

"That's reassuring, at least. Still, that must be awfully inconvenient," Hermione mused, staring down at her plate. "Hmm…"

The rules of the wizarding world were remarkably inconsistent, and it was beginning to annoy her. The Bond was supposed to prevent a familiar from deliberately harming their master, but that didn't seem to apply here. Cutting someone in your sleep wouldn't be deliberate at all. Meanwhile, Ri and Ru seemed able to maul their masters with impunity, which seemed like a clear violation of the "do not harm" clause.

She felt like she was missing a piece here. She hated that feeling.

Harry was also lost in thought, still staring at the small envelope in disbelief. He didn't even notice when the damaged owl vanished.

One tiny leg kicked in the air as George swung the goblet by the stem. The other was tucked up tight to the owl's body, quivering slightly. An odd howling could be heard reverberating inside the goblet.

"Y'know, I really hope this thing's okay." George sighed.

Fred nodded. 'Yeah, we keep breaking mail owls and we'll probably get in trouble."

" **That's** what you're worried about?"

"Well, what else should we be worried about?" George asked. He was doing a rather remarkable job twirling the goblet around one finger by the stem. With a slight twist, he sent it spiraling into the air.

Fred casually caught the falling owl and sent it spinning across the table with a flick of his wrist. "Yeah. It's not like our reputations could get any worse. Especially since we hang out with our lordship, destroyer of worlds and bane of silverware!"

There was an annoyed harumph from further down the table.

"The owl, maybe?" Hermione responded, pointing at the cup George was carefully examining. "It seems like you're being pretty inhumane. Owls are still living things, even if they're vile, disgusting blights on the world that shouldn't be allowed within a thousand meters of civilized beings."

Harry suspected the witch might still be holding a grudge over their first owlpocolypse.

Neville stared. "Uh, Hermione? You have an owl on your shoulder."

The girl turned to look at the tiny owl. Smiling as Headwig made another bit of bacon vanish, she rubbed her on the head. "Gee, thank you Neville. I'm so glad someone pointed out I was occupied by an owl in such an efficient and timely manner," she growled.

"What he's trying to say is that it seems a bit silly to say that when you've spent the last twenty minutes feeding an owl your breakfast. It makes you look a little foolish," George clarified. He frowned as he gave the trapped owl's feet a little tug. The creature showed no sign of budging. "Fred, I need a #2 spoon and some strawberry… no… grape jam."

"Please, it's not like Headwig asked to be associated with trash like that. Just look at how pretty and well-mannered she is. She's clearly nothing like the others. In fact, she's probably the only good thing to ever come from owlkind," Hermione stiffly announced. The Familiar puffed itself up and stood tall under her loving gaze. "She's wonderful enough to justify the species' existence. It's quite an accomplishment, considering how disgusting the rest are."

Showing a total lack of species loyalty, Headwig nodded firmly.

"And they call us the blood traitors…" Fred grumbled. "Brother, we don't have a #2 spoon. All we've got is a #4 and a #Q."

"Damn it. The #4 will have to do," muttered George, accepting the spoon. "And I don't thing being humane figures into it on this one. Mail owls aren't real owls, so it seems silly to be upset about one or two getting brain damaged."

Hermione stared at him. "What?"

"They're mass-produced in growing vats," George clarified. "They're conditioned to deliver mail with mind magic, then sold off. They're more like homunculi than real owls."

"You realize I'm not an idiot, right?"

King cleared his throat, momentarily pushing Lady's fork away from his mouth. "Actually, they are speaking the truth. I was hesitant to believe it myself, but all my research into the subject has only verified their claims, absurd as they may be."

"See? Totally artificial. They don't have feelings," George continued. He was carefully using a spoon to apply jam to the lip of the goblet. "They're pretty close to not being alive, really. Probably closer to a brick than a bird."

"They're even delivered by mail owls. Ironic, huh?"

George sighed. "That's not ironic, Fred. It's just kinda weird."

"But- but… Headwig!" Hermione protested.

"Don't know why you care, but I wouldn't worry about it. She's not a standard-issue model, and I doubt anyone would bother to have a custom model made that small. Little thing can probably barely carry a letter."

Hermione smiled and snatched Headwig off her shoulder and hugged her. The owl made a happy noise as she was squeezed against the witch's chest. "See? I knew you were different."

"Right…" Fred drawled as Hermione cheerfully went back to eating her breakfast. He shook his head. "Brother, do you think it would help if we poked it with a stick?"

"Perhaps, but we're distinctly lacking in sticks at the moment."Something poked him in the side. Looking down, he discovered… a stick!

"Will this do?" Neville asked, holding it up.

George inspected it carefully. "Hmm… that is rather nice, but I don't suppose you have one of a larger diameter? It would be ideal if it had a three degree bend in the middle."

Neville shrugged and held a hand out to the side. Smiling happily, Orchid placed a new stick in it.

"Here."

In exchange for his wooden implement, Neville received an impressed look.

"Rather useful, that… Now, let's see…" George studied the stick carefully. "17 millimeters in diameter, 2.873 degree bend, three millimeters off center toward the poking end. Not bad."

He poked the owl's feet with the stick. When that got no response, he poked it in the rear. This caused one of the bird's feet to extend violently, nearly knocking the poking implement out of his hand. A sound very similar to a bullfrog's croak echoed through the goblet.

"Brother, I don't think it's helping. Are you sure you're poking it right?"

"Of course I'm poking it right!" George snapped. "You think I don't know how to poke an owl with a stick?"

Fred giggled. "I dunno, George. I'm surprised you know how to poke a bird at all, let alone in the rear!"

"I hate you," George growled. Turning back to the owl, he mused, "Maybe we just need a bigger stick?"

"Not the first time you've said that, is it?"

"Damn it, Fred, I'm trying to-" George cut off as he noted Hermione grinning at him from across the table. "You know what? I hate you too. I hate you all. Someone just get me a bigger owl-poking tool!"

There was a bang as a small log the size of a man's arm slammed onto the table.

"Yeah, that's probably not-"

"You're doing it wrong."

Fred, George and Neville let out yelps of surprise. Fred's plate went flying as he failed to regain his balance and Orchid just barely caught Neville before he hit the floor. The only one to successfully remain seated was George, and that was only because of the slim hand that was suddenly holding his shoulder.

George stared at the gleaming, four-centimeter nails. Leaning back a little, he glanced the other direction and observed Angel leaning over his shoulder.

"Kitten, where the heck did you come from?" he demanded. Sure, they had all been focusing on the owl, but surely they hadn't been that distracted. At least Fred should have noticed her, considering he was facing straight towards his brother.

"Hm… That's a kinda messy and icky story. Lotsa sticky stuff. Might've been some chains involved," she giggled. Quickly reaching out, she traced a semicircle across the side of the cup. A sizable chunk of metal fell out, allowing the owl to drop onto George's plate with a soft splat.

It immediately spread its wings and began making a strange "meep" noise.

George carefully picked it up and tapped the side of its head. With each tap its eyes jerked violently to the side in a way that almost hurt to watch. "Damn, I think it's pretty busted up. Hey, anyone in there?"

"No~, you're doing it wrong again! Here, let me try!" Angel snatched it out of his hand before he could stop her.

"Kitten, I don't know if-"

Raising the owl to eye level, she gave it a sweet smile. "Bir~die~," she quietly sang.

George shivered involuntarily as an ice-cold chill went down his spine. Something about her voice just then made him want to dive under the table, or possibly just run in the other direction as fast as he could.

In jerky motions reminiscent of a puppet used by a poor puppeteer, the owl lowered its wings. Its eyes slowly swiveled to stare straight at Angel. They actually focused on her, rather than staring at some unseen point in the distance, and fixed her with an intense stare. Its beak opened, slowly and ponderously, like it was taking great effort to move it.

"See? Birdie's all bett-"

The owl screamed.

It wasn't a chirp, hoot, whistle, or any other sound you could reasonably expect an owl to make. It was an honest-to-god scream. Even worse, the sound that violently erupted from the owl was a noise that no mortal creature should be able to produce. It was like someone took a seventy-thirty mix of pure fear and suffering, added a dash of mind-numbing terror, blended well and converted the resulting concoction straight into sound. Just hearing it made George want to cower in a corner.

In response, Angel reacted in the best way a person possibly could in this situation. She screamed bloody murder and released it, thrusting it away from herself.

The damaged owl took off like a shot. It was little more than a grey blur as his launched itself directly away from Angel. The whole time its head was turned around so it could keep its crazed eyes fixed on the redhead. It continued to scream without pause, as if it had transcended to a level of fear that rendered breathing meaningless.

The scream cut off suddenly, terminating in a wet splat.

George, shuddering as he shook off the lingering effects of the nightmarish howl, started. "Damn. They really should have made that window bigger," he muttered. "And they just finished scraping the last one off, too."

"That was… perhaps the most horrifying thing I have experienced in the entire span of my existence," King muttered, shuddering. In his lap, the entire surface of Lady's body was rippling as she shivered in horror.

"Worse than the Goo?"

"Worse than the Goo."

George nodded and ran his hands up and down his arms, trying to banish the chill brought about by the owl's scream. "That was… a horrible, horrible malfunction…"

"I'm pretty sure that sound will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life," Fred agreed.

"I'd say the wall did us a favor. That thing was an affront to all living beings, an abomination that should never have existed," George continued. "The world is better off without it. It would have been better if it never existed at all, but..."

"Can I eat it, then?" Angel eagerly asked.

Harry, still running his fingers lightly across his envelope, absently muttered, "Sure."

Everyone at the table - humans, foxes, elemental, plant and transformed cat - stared at Harry in shock. For just a moment, everything was dead silent as they looked at him with wide eyes.

The silence was broken by Angel screaming, "Yay!"

She vaulted George and landed on the table. Before anyone could stop her, she launched herself into the air. The leap easily carried her across the distance to Hufflepuff's section of the hall. Plates flew in every direction as she landed in the center of a table, eliciting a flurry of angry shouts.

She didn't even seem to notice them as she catapulted towards Ravenclaw. She hit hard and barely managed to dig her nails in before she slid off. Grinning gleefully, she tore down the length of the table. Food was flung in every direction she trampled serving dishes and plates.

The rest of the group was still staring at Harry.

Finally noticing he was the center of attention, Harry looked up from the envelope curiously. "What?" he asked, clearly confused.

"Harry, my friend, I do regret to inform you that… you may have-" Hermione cut King off. "You told Angel she could eat a mail owl, Harry."

"I did?" Harry asked, staring at her in shock.

There was a sickening crunch, audible even from the Gryffindor tables. It was quickly followed by an array of screams, punctuated by loud gagging noises. One voice in particular drowned out the others as it screamed, "Oh god! She got it in my eyes!". It was immediately followed by a quieter voice yelling, "Oh no! Cho!"

"Huh. I did," Harry observed.

"It's gonna be re~ally hard to deny this one, huh Fred?" George muttered. He paused, then looked across the table. There was a very obvious lack of Freds there. The fox laying next to his plate tapped his arm, then used her tail to point down the table.

"What's that George?" Fred yelled. "I can't hear you from all the way down here, which is where I've been eating my breakfast all morning!"

"Well played, brother," George sighed. Shaking his head, he smiled down at the fox sitting by his plate. "At least I can count on you, right?"

She looked up at him with obvious pity in her eyes. A white paw lashed out and knocked the last of his bacon off the table. She quickly joined it, dropping into his lap next to her sister. The pair gathered up the food in their mouths and took off down the bench as fast as their paws could carry them.

"That reminds me… Could you pass the bacon?" Hermione asked.

King just gave her a shocked stare, so Lady helpfully leaned over and pushed the platter towards her.

"How in the world could you possibly eat after… that?"

"Don't expect me to be a sissy just because the rest of you are. It's not like a cat hybrid tearing apart a mutilated nightmare owl's corpse with her bare hands is a big deal," she said defensively. She paused for a moment with a piece of bacon halfway to her mouth. Headwig happily fluttered by and repossessed it. "Wow. I haven't even been here for a month and I have no idea where the line for 'weird' is at this point."

King sighed. "It would perhaps be better if we all simply forgot this, at least until the inevitable repercussions… arrive…" he trailed off, looking at something behind Harry.

A pair of arms slipped around him from behind and locked him in a hug. Angel happily leaned down and nuzzled the side of his face. "Thank you, My Boy. Birdie was ve~ry good, and I'm sure he was happy he could be useful even after he wasn't a birdie anymore."

Harry twitched. "Angel, that was jam you just smeared all over my cheek, right?"

"Uh… I guess it was… kinda… jam?"

Harry twitched again. "Angel, that was jam you just smeared all over my cheek," he said firmly.

"O~h. I get it! Of course it was jam, My Boy. What else could it be?" she asked, bouncing back into her seat. She smiled at him. Her lower face and upper chest were painted red. Scattered here and there were small, wet chunks that were definitely just strawberries. "You can be so~ silly, My Boy."

Harry sighed and glanced up and down the table. Frowning, he stretched across and snatched a couple of pieces of toast off their platter. "Here," he said, thrusting them at Angel. "Wipe all the… jam off."

She took the toast and began doing exactly that, humming a happy tune while she scraped off the red mess.

Harry sighed and grabbed a piece of toast for himself. He tried not to think too much about what he was doing as he wiped his cheek with it.

"Well, that's disgusting," Hermione declared, taking another bite of toast. "Did you manage to get any in your mouth?"

"Oh, I got lots in my mouth. But birdies are really wet when they're nice and warm, so they go squirt when you bite them."

"Yeah, I probably could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that," George muttered.

"That makes sense. The blood wouldn't have started coagulating yet. Have you tried, I don't know… cutting a hole and squeezing it all out? Maybe that'll help." Hermione suggested.

"Hermione! Don't encourage her!" Harry snapped.

The witch grabbed a piece of toast off the platter and started smearing strawberry jam across it. Holding it up, she examined it, then studied Harry's "jam" covered toast. With a shrug she stuffed it in her mouth. "It's perfectly natural, Harry. It's not like I decided how the world-"

There was a wet splat.

Every remaining occupant of the table recoiled in horror. Well, almost every remaining occupant. Hermione, a piece of toast still hanging from her mouth, decided that wasn't going quite far enough. Headwig just barely managed to disembark before the witch keeled over and released a rainbow onto the floor.

"That is not natural," gagged Neville

"Hey, guys. What's up?" Ron asked as he dropped into the seat next to Hermione.

Still coughing, she snapped, "Ronald, get that… thing off the table!"

"What? Why? Scabbers is my Familiar."

The familiar was even worse up close. Its long, thick fur was soggy and glistened like an oil slick in the morning light. Patches of it were overgrown by a long, green moss that swayed gently in the breeze. The fur almost completely covered eyes that peered out pitifully, as if asking for a merciful death. It was hard to tell if it had legs, but its long tail slid back and forth across the table. Each movement produced a disgusting slosh. The slimy trail it left glimmered in a way that was almost pleasant.

"That… that should not be near our food, Ronald. Please remove it," King requested. From his lap, Lady firmly nodded in agreement. She raised an arm menacingly, water flowing up it to form a large sledgehammer.

"That… that should not be near our us, Ronald. Please make it go away," George corrected. "If you don't get rid of it I'll ask Kitten how far she can throw it."

"No way! You know kitties clean by licking, right? I"m not touching that!" Angel said.

"There's something wrong with you guys. Oh, cool. Toast." Ron leaned forward and snatched the food off the table, jamming nearly the whole thing in his mouth. After a moment he paused, a confused look on his face. "Hey, does this jam taste weird?"

Another rainbow hit the floor, courtesy of Hermione.

"Is there something wrong with her? Because that's really gross. You shouldn't even come to breakfast if you're just gonna throw up everywhere," Ron said in disgust, bits of half-chewed toast and blobs of "jam" falling from his mouth. Shaking his head, he reached for the last pieces of bacon on the serving platter.

There was a white flash. A few drops of blood flew into the the air. Ron jerked his hand back with a hiss, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Headwig was standing between him and the bacon.

"What the heck is wrong with you!?" Ron demanded.

George laughed out loud. "I think she's saying that's Hermione's bacon, my dear little brother."

"No, that's my bacon," Ron declared. "Move it."

Headwig chirped angrily.

"Move or I'll move you myself!"

Headwig chirped again. For some reason, Harry got the distinct impression it was the owl equivalent of screaming, "Come at me, bro!"

Ron hit the table in annoyance and reached out. "Fine, you stupid little-"

His back slammed into the stone floor hard enough to drive every last gasp of air out of his lungs. He stared in horror and disbelief at the tiny owl now perched on his nose. She had her head cocked so she could stare down at him with wide, dark eyes. Her glare bored straight through him. It was like an enormous pressure was pressing down on him, making it difficult to even catch his breath.

Without taking her eyes off him, the owl slowly drew a wing across her neck. The wordless message was quite clearly conveyed: Mess with me and you'll be on your knees faster than a sorority girl at a frat party.

"Right," Ron squeaked. "Gotcha."

Headwig gave his nose another menacing squeeze, nearly driving her talons through his flesh, then launched off it. Ron clambered to his feet, desperately trying to look like he didn't just get his ass handed to him by a one ounce bird.

Rounding the table, he dropped into the empty seat next to Harry and began angrily stroking his Familiar. A nasty sound was produced each time he raked his hand through its fur. "What the heck are you thinking, bringing a crazy bird like that to breakfast. Your Familiar's nuts!"

"She's my **Familiar** , genius. Of course she comes to breakfast with me," Hermione hissed. She smiled as she held a strip of bacon up. Headwig quickly hopped down her arm and began tearing chunks off, head turned to look at Ron the whole time. "And I really don't think you have the right to criticize my dining habits. Not after tossing that thing on the table."

"He's my Familiar! Your's gets to be on the table. So do theirs," Ron shouted, pointing at the only Weasley twin still present.

"Ri and Ru are clean. Headwig is clean. Angel, when she's not covered in blood, is clean. I don't have a problem with any of them being on the table, other than the cat making it hard to eat. But that? That is quite obviously not clean."

"Now, now, let's all calm down," George interrupted. He slid Harry's plate towards Ron with a disarming smile. "Here, little brother. Have Harry's toast. I don't think he was going to eat it, anyway."

Ron lifted his hand off his familiar with a unpleasant sucking sound. Drops of thick, semi-opaque liquid dribbled onto the table. Scowling, he grabbed the offered toast and rammed it into his mouth. A thick strand of fluid stretched between his fingers and food hole as he withdrew his hand.

Hermione decided to taste the rainbow again.

"Wow. How much did she eat?" George asked, clearly impressed.

Ron paused in licking his fingers to glare and say, "That's really disgusting."

I thought you had a strong stomach, Hermione," George remarked.

Hermione sat back up and wiped her mouth with a piece of toast. "I told you, a cat eating a bird is perfectly natural. That and that," she pointed first at the rat, then at Ron, "are far from natural."

Flatware rattled as Ron hit the table. "What the heck is wrong with you? You've been a jerk ever since I sat down!"

"I happen to find you rude and disgusting, and it's not just this morning, either. You were very unpleasant both after the summoning and last night. They should have left you plastered to the ceiling," Hermione sniffed. "I've spoken to you for less than two hours in total and you are already one of the least likeable people I've ever met."

"I'm not likable? Well, you know what? At least I have friends!" he shouted, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry stared at the gelatinous fluid running off the boy's hand and onto his new robes. He looked up at Hermione's upset face and King's disapproving expression. Sitting on the same side as him, Neville had gone quiet and was trying to ignore the situation. Judging by the thorns poking out of her skin, this annoyed Orchid to a potentially unsafe degree. George, sitting right next to him, was just giving him a slightly curious look, as if wondering what he would do.

Harry thought for a moment, then frowned. "Angel," he intoned decisively.

An arm slipped around Ron's shoulder, causing him to stiffen in shock.

"Hi~. I'm Angel!" the familiar said with a friendly smile.

"I- I know... " he said with a faint tremor in his voice. "How did-"

"Oh? That's nice," she cut him off happily. She pointed down the table towards where Fred and the foxes were sitting. "You should go eat over there."

"I don't want to-"

Angel's hand tightened on his shoulder almost imperceptibly. As small as the motion was, it was enough to bring the sharp edges of her claws within a hair's breadth of his flesh. There wasn't even the slightest resistance as they parted the fabric of his robes.

Leaning down so her lips were centimeters from his ear, she whispered, "You should go eat over there."

Ron went pale. With a frightened squeak he scrambled out of his chair, nearly tipping himself to the floor in his haste to leave. With a frown, Angel grabbed his plate, slid the edge under his "rat" and flipped it through the air. An instant later, they were treated to a horrified scream from Fred.

Angel smiled brilliantly and said, "Oops. Guess he shoulda been sitting over here with all've us!"

"What the heck did you say to him?" George asked with wide eyes.

Angel put a nail to her lips pensively. "Uh… I asked nicely? I'm good at asking nicely!" she answered. She pulled her finger back and studied her nail. Her tongue flicked out and traced the sharpened edge. "Mmm… birdie."

"Huh. I should really consider asking nicely more… often…" George trailed off. "Uh, oops?"

"Yes, I think 'oops' would be appropriate," Professor McGonagall's very unamused voice came from behind Harry. "Though, it may not be nearly strong enough."

"Err… I don't suppose you'd believe a different insane cat hybrid did it?" George asked hopefully.

McGonagall stared down at Angel.

The vines that made up her top were squirming, thin tendrils climbing her chest to snatch and devour the bits of "strawberry" scattered across her chest. They were disposing of the evidence very efficiently, but they weren't quite quick enough. Angel giggled and squirmed slightly as they wound up her neck in an attempt to get what little "jam" the toast had failed to remove.

George coughed into his hand. "Yeah, that's kind of a hard sell, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Mr. Potter and Ms. Angel will be coming with me. I assume I can trust the rest of you to behave yourselves for the remainder of the meal," she stated in a tone that basically screamed, "That better be a safe assumption."

The table's residents hastily nodded.

"Good. Come along then. I believe we have a matter to discuss."

Harry's erstwhile dining partners watched him leave the dining hall on McGonagall's heels.

"So… uh.. Wow," George muttered suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I do believe that my interpretation of the word 'disturbing' has been forever altered by this meal," King announced. "I feel it goes without saying that it was not for the better."

There were several nods from around the table.

"I hate to say it, but at least the rest of us aren't getting in trouble," Fred said.

George stared across the table. The chair there had, at some point, decided its Fred quota had to be fulfilled. Said Fred was staring back, his innocent gaze matched by the foxes sitting on either shoulder.

"What the heck do you think you're doing here!?" George demanded.

Fred gave him a puzzled look and held up a piece of bacon. "Eating breakfast. It is breakfast, after all, so it would be kind of weird if I wasn't."

The foxes nodded in agreement.

"Oh, no. No way. You three don't get to sit here! You sit over there. You sit with the disappointments and traitors!" George snapped, pointing back the way Fred had come.

Their end of the Gryffindor table had already been vacant due to their housemates' fear of King. Normally this wouldn't have been a issue, given that the table was far larger than needed to accommodate the full house.

Unfortunately, Ron's forced relocation had caused another problem to arise. Put simply, no one wanted to be anywhere near the supposed rat. This had caused another mass migration, pushing the disgusted students even further down the table. The end result was that over half the Gryffindor table had become a desolate wasteland.

The students had packed their chairs as close together as possible, but there was only so much room. People were actually standing up and leaning over their housemates to eat. Some had decided to cut out the middleman and find a willing lap to occupy, while others were on the floor with their plates balanced on their legs

Fred stared first at the jam-packed section, then at the empty area surrounding Ron.

"You're kidding, right?"

" _ **i shall visit upon you countless unspeakable torments, tearing at your mind and feasting upon your soul until you are naught but an empty husk, devoid of warmth and life - your torment shall be an offering to the faceless legion, their presence in this world growing stronger with every scream torn from your pathetic lips**_ " George uttered. " _ **eternity itself shall weep as your existence is torn asunder and ground to nothing beneath the black gears of the abyss**_ "

Fred took an involuntary step back.

"Uh, right… I'll just… go sit with Ron, then…" he stammered. Never taking his eyes off his brother, he slowly backed down the table.

George surveyed the table, his eyes once again normal. Around him, his friends and housemates were staring at him in disbelief and horror. Even Orchid, the man-eating terror plant, was looking at him through wide eyes. After considering for a moment, he looked down at his plate with a frown.

"Whoa, I felt weird for a second there," he muttered.

"Uh, yeah. That reminds me," Hermione said, tapping a butter knife against her plate. "The council of Gryffindors-that-don't-suck has passed a new resolution. By popular vote, you're eternally banned from eggs."

George stared at her like she'd made a very unfunny joke. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. You're done," Hermione declared. She reached across the table and grabbed his plate with one hand. As he watched in disbelief, she started sliding it away from him.

George's brain caught up about the time his plate was halfway across the table. Reaching for it, he said, "No I'm-"

 **Thunk**.

The butter knife slammed down between his index and middle fingers. It was so close that he could feel the blunt edge brushing the web of his hand. It was probably a good thing it hadn't been a bit closer, because it came down with enough force to drive it into the wooden table. It even stood on end as Hermione released it, embedded deep enough that it required no support.

"Sorry, George, what did you say?" she asked sweetly.

George studied the knife, then reluctantly withdrew his hand. "I was just saying how full I was. Couldn't eat another bite."

"Good. It'd be a shame if something… unfortunate happened to you. Oh, and George?"

"...yeah?"

Hermione fixed him with a glare, the promise of imminent violence clear in her eyes. "Don't even think about sneakig any. Trust me, we'll know if you do. You probably don't want the council to have to vote on a punitive action."

"How would you even-"

The rest of the question went unasked, cut off by Neville's startled cry. A small object, just having ricocheted off his skull, slammed into his plate. The table was once again subjected to a spray of assorted breakfast foods.

George stared at the paper-wrapped package in surprise, then looked up. A large, brown barn owl was hovering above them. He could swear the thing had a smug look on its face.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

The bird gave a derisive hoot and turned to fly away.

The Weasley said something that probably shouldn't be reproduce in writing, then joined the others in examining the owl's improvised projectile.

Orchid, on the other hand, was concerned with something else entirely. She quickly glanced over, confirming that everyone else was busy trying to figure out what the filthy creature had hit her Keeper with. Seeing that they were all occupied, she quickly raised an arm.

The appendage split slightly, allowing a thin vine to emerge. The bit of greenery shot out like a bullet, crossing the hall in an instant. The departing owl didn't even have time to hoot in surprise before it was snatched out of the air. Orchid's arm peeled open into three parts, forming a nightmarish maw lined with tooth-like thorns. The bird finally managed a squawk as it was reeled in, but the noise was lost as her appendage closed with a satisfying crunch.

"Did you just hear something?" King asked, looking up and down the table.

Orchid smiled sweetly, tilted her head, and gave him her best "I'm just a plant and I don't understand" look.

"I hear a lot of things, King," George sighed. "Man, this place is getting out of control. Considering I'm the one saying that, there's something seriously wrong going on. You okay, Nev?"

"Yeah. It didn't hit that hard," Neville muttered. He gingerly prodded the new sore spot on his jaw. "What the heck just happened?"

"It appears a mail owl just struck you with a small package," King responded."Door-to-face deliveries. Great customer service. I hope that little bastard gets what's coming to him," George declared.

Orchid smiled happily. Helping people felt much nicer than she would have thought. It wasn't quite as nice as eating them, but might serve as an acceptable second choice.

"Oh, by the way. It's for you," George declared, holding the filthy package by a string. "Congratulations, Lord Nev. You're the proud owner of whatever the heck this is. I'm not sure whether that's better or worse than getting pegged with someone else's package, but whatever."

Neville stared at the filthy package. He could just barely make out his grandmother's name beneath the chunks of egg and pancake.

"Uh… Orchid?"

A thorny vine lashed out, instantly turning the brown paper into ragged shreds. A clear sphere fell to the table with a thud.

"Seriously?" George asked. "A Remembrall?"

It was definitely a Rememberall, the seventh most useless commercially-produced magical item.

"Awesome," Neville said blandly.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

Okay, I'll admit that this one is kind of a cop-out. I probably made fewer changes to this than any chapter to date. Mainly it was correcting a few things here and there to line up better with the new timeline. In particular, we have not yet been blessed with the birth of an Owlverlord.

It's been a couple of months since I actually sat down to write. There's been a lot of stuff going on, and I haven't been in the best place recently. I'm hopefully coming out the other side of it now, so I might be doing a bit more writing soon.

No promises, though.

Just to warn you, next chapter is going to be just as lazy. We will once again meet unfortunate Mr. Moo Moo, with very minor changes. The encounter with Hagrid, however, has had some very important details changed. You might want to keep an eye out, because there's some interesting things hidden in there.

Also, has a nasty tendency to disrespect my horizontal bars. What the fuck is up with that? It's bad enough they limit the characters I can use, but seriously?

/rant

/chapter


	12. Udderly Horrific

x

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Something Familiar (Mk.2)

Chapter Twelve

"Udderly Horrific"

AKA

"Copypasta Strikes Back"

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

"Are you sure this is safe?" Hermione asked for the fourteenth time.

Harry glanced over his shoulder to glare at her again. It wasn't a very nice thing to do, but he was getting a little tired of the question. She'd been asking it over and over since they started down the path toward the Forbidden Forest.

"'mione, it's fine, okay?"

"They call it the Forbidden Forest, Harry. I could be wrong, but I think there's probably a good reason they don't want us going there," she complained.

Harry shrugged. "Of course there is. It's because of all the dangerous monsters Hagrid keeps there. It'd be silly to call it 'The Happy Forest Full of Friendly Bunnies' or something."

Hermione stopped short, causing both Harry and Neville to do the same. "Wait. He lives in the Forbidden Forest, which is forbidden because he fills it with monsters? He deliberately puts things that might try to eat him where he lives?"

Harry snorted. "I don't think there's too many things stuipid enough to try and eat Hagrid, 'mione."

"Gran says he killed a dragon with a knife," Neville whispered in awe. "It was just a small dragon, but…"

"He used a knife?" Harry asked, clearly surprised. "Wow. He must've felt like giving it a chance, then."

Hermione half turned to face the castle, giving it a hopeful look. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if being invited to tea by a dragon-murdering giant is a good thing. Why am I coming with you again?"

"Because you're my friend, and friends do things like this. You **are** my friend, aren't you, Hermione?" Harry asked, deploying his best sad puppy look.

Hermione broke in a matter of seconds, sighing and slumping slightly. With obvious reluctance, she started walking down the path again. "Next time I'm doing a lot worse than pushing Fred down the stairs in front of Professor McGonagall. I was so sure the lecture would be long enough to get me out of this."

"You realize you just admitted to trying to maim one of our friends so you didn't have to go to tea, right?" Neville asked in disbelief. "I mean, in front of Harry and everything…"

Hermione shot him a disappointed look. "Neville, if I was trying to maim the idiot, he would've spent a lot longer than a few hours in the Hospital Wing. Besides, Harry blatantly guilt-tripped me into coming."

"She's right. I totally did," Harry said with a smile, holding Hagrid's letter up to the light.

"And you're not supposed to admit things like that in front of Hermione, Harry," Neville groaned.

"Why not? Aren't good friends honest with each other?" Harry asked. "Why shouldn't I be honest?"

Hermione shot Neville a suspicious look through narrowed eyes. "I don't know, Harry. Maybe Neville doesn't consider us to be good friends."

"You know that's not what I meant," Neville sighed. "If you really have to blackmail and threaten our friends, I guess it's better to do it openly," he conceded. "It might be better to… you know… not do it at all."

"Oh, Neville. You're so cute when you're hopelessly and unrealistically optimistic," Hermione said indulgently.

The young wizard closed his eyes and breathed in a slow, calming breath as she patted him on the head.

"You guys know I'm not really going to make you come if you don't want to, right?"

"Harry, it's not that I don't want to come," Hermione answered. "It's just that I'm pretty sure being brutally killed and eaten is bad for your health."

"Oh, come on! You're not going to… be…" Harry trailed off as they rounded the bend, giving him his first close-up view of the Forbidden Forest. It took several seconds before his brain finally registered what his eyes were seeing.

It occurred to Harry that the Forest of Imminent Death would be a better name for the Forbidden Forest, or possibly the Forest Where Something is Guaranteed to Eat Your Face.

The Forbidden Forest was dark, far darker than should reasonably be possible. The trees were thick and large, but that didn't justify the sudden, heavy shadows that began just before the first trunks. It almost looked like someone had hung a black curtain from the first branches.

Runes had been carved deep into the tree trunks starting about ten meters in. They formed a very obvious line that, presumably, ran the entire perimeter of the wood. They glowed a soft red color, lacing the darkness with a faint red light. It was just bright enough that it didn't do much to dispel the shadows, but managed to make the whole area look like it had been bathed in blood.

"So, think they're still serving lunch?" Harry asked. Without missing a beat, he spun back around to face the castle.

He didn't even make it a full step before Hermione's hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him cold.

"Harry, whatever are you doing?" she asked sweetly. Her grin as she did so could only be described as feral. "Hagrid's expecting us for tea, remember? It wouldn't do to keep him waiting."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Neville demanded, "What is wrong with you two? Hermione, you didn't even want to go a second ago!"

"Well, that was before Harry tried to wuss out, wasn't it? He'll never learn if we don't force him to suffer for his poor choices," Hermione explained.

"...so you want to get us all killed just so you can rub in his face that you were right?"

"If that's what it takes, Neville, then yes."

"Hey! I wasn't wussing out!"

"Sure, of course you weren't," Hermione agreed sarcastically. "You just forgot something in the castle, right?"

Seeing an out, Harry enthusiastically said, "Yes! Exactly!"

"Was it your balls, Harry? Did you forget your balls up in the tower?" the witch snickered. "Because I'm quite certain you don't have any with you right now…"

"Oh, it's on," Harry growled. He immediately turned and started marching toward the forest again.

Still snickering, Hermione muttered, "Easier than killing kittens with a chainsaw," and trailed behind him. It was pretty obvious she was leaving plenty of room, just in case something **did** try to eat him.

Burying his face in his hands, Neville said, "Orchid? Please wake up."

The put-upon wizard was very glad he'd had the foresight to ask her to stay with him. She had been just a hair annoyed, since she was planning on spending the afternoon trying to get away with molesting a certain bouncy redhead, but agreed readily enough when he explained she could just reschedule.

The creepers lashed around his body wiggled and loosened, then slipped down out of his robes. A moment later Orchid formed in front of him. Giving him a happy smile, she tilted her head and looked at him expectantly.

 _…?_

"Please go in front of Harry and Hermione. If something tries to eat them, eat it first, okay?"

Nodding enthusiastically, the Familiar took off down the path.

The small group made their way into the forest. Orchid took the lead, happily bouncing through the trees while eagerly watching the dark shadows. Harry and Hermione forged boldly ahead just behind her, needling each other as they went. Headwig, perched atop the witch's head, watched the darkness with suspicious eyes. Bringing up the rear was Neville, close enough that he was confident Orchid could cover him and far enough that he wouldn't get dragged into whatever his friends were going on about now.

Something about bears with machine guns fighting rocket-launching seals? And monkey assassins? Yeah, it was probably better off to sit this one out. He had a feeling that whatever it was, it would just hurt his brain to hear it.

Conversations like that made him start to wonder if having friends was actually a good thing…

Neville wasn't sure whether it was due to the runes lining the path, or if even viscous monsters had a decent sense of self-preservation, but they managed to reach their destination unmolested. Harry and Hermione, despite their bold attitudes, looked just as relieved as Neville felt. Orchid, on the other hand, looked absolutely dejected. She had been eagerly waiting for something to try and eat them, only to be disappointed in the end.

A large wooden cabin was sitting in the middle of the clearing ahead. The was built from huge logs that had clearly been taken from this very forest. Given the thickness of the trees around them, it was a safe bet that the structure would stand up to just about anything.

Given the man who lived there, it was a safe bet the structure might **need** to stand up against just about anything.

"See? That wasn't so bad, 'mione. Nothing dangerous at all!" Harry said, wiping a bit of nervous sweat off his brow. "Unless you think Mr. Moo-moo there is going to try and suck our eyeballs out."

The three children paused to examine the cow warily. It was a large, black and white beast with plenty of meat on its bones. Currently it was standing next to the cabin with a rope looped around its neck. The other end was tied to a stake driven deep in the ground.

"Mr. Moo-moo isn't going to try and suck our eyeballs out, right?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Well… he looks like a cow," Hermione said, eying it. "Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean it actually **is** a cow. It might just be trying to get us to lower our guard."

Neville pushed his way past them. "Guys? Even if it isn't a cow, Orchid's going to eat it before it can suck our eyes out, so lets go already. I'll feel a lot better with a wall between me and whatever's in the woods," he snapped, making his way toward the cabin.

"Fine. But if there's some kind of horrible monster behind that door, you're getting the biggest I-told-you-so I can manage. That's pretty big," Hermione announced.

"Guys, I'm pretty sure there's no monster in the cabin," Neville sighed. "Some one give me a hand."

The cabin's door was quite intimidating. The dark wood and iron hinges gave it a somewhat ominous look. It had clearly been built to Hagrid-sized specifications, meaning it dwarfed the three children standing before it. Harry actually had to get a leg up from Neville to reach the knocker. The iron ring made an enormous booming sound as it struck.

Several long moments passed, the trio waiting nervously. Orchid stood behind the eagerly, the tips of a few dozen thorns sliding out of her skin. Harry couldn't help but notice the deadly vines that had curled around and between them, their poison-coated tip shining in the light. Anything that tried to lunge towards the trio was probably in for a nasty surprise.

After what seemed like several long minutes, the doorknob finally turned. Orchid's vines tensed, their thorns growing longer and sharper. As the portal swung open, they breathlessly waited to see what was hidden behind it.

It was a monster.

To be a bit more accurate, it was a monster bulldog.

The dog was far larger than it had any right to be. It was so huge it had to look down at Harry, and he wouldn't be surprised if the beast weighed five hundred kilograms. It was the sort of canine you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, a light alley or even the neighborhood's quarterly ice cream social.

The creature's impressive intimidation factor was pretty much negated by the small monocole it wore. The glass lens was set in a golden frame, propped against the dog's left eye. A fine golden chain ran across its cheek and ended at its collar. The collar itself was black and white, with a neat black bowtie. To top it off, the dog was also sporting a rather nice bowler cap, worn at a jaunty angle.

"Woof," the dog said.

The three students stared at the dog for just a moment longer than was strictly polite. Finally, Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs, prompting him to present the invitation he'd received at breakfast.

"Uh… Hagrid invited us for tea."

The dog nodded and turned to face the interior of the cabin and announced, "Woof."

"Well don't just bugger about! Invite them in, you daft beast!" Hagrid's voice called from within the home.

The dog took another look at them, then jerked its head towards the interior. It turned and trotted away, clearly expecting them to follow.

The interior of the cabin was a single, massive room. A large bed was positioned in the back left corner. There was a small kitchenette across from it in the back right. Aside from that, there were only really three things that stood out. Every available bit of wall was covered in books, photographs or heads.

For obvious reasons the heads were what stood out the most. There were dozens of them there, all mounted to wooden plaques. The collection ran along the tops of all four walls, stacked three or four high. The trophies represented an incredible number of creatures from every corner of the globe, both magical and mundane. Hermione didn't recognize all of them off hand, but several of the magical ones seemed to fall somewhere between "I hope you don't like your limbs" and "inform your next of kin" on the danger scale.

Several bookshelves were scattered around, embedded in the walls. Every single one of them was full to the point of overflowing. There were scrolls, sheafs of parchment tied with string, leather-bound tomes, a few things that looked suspiciously like wood or stone tablets and even quite a few muggle paperbacks. There was such a wide array of literature on display that it was almost dizzying.

If a section of wall didn't sport a trophy or bookshelf, there was a good chance it was covered by a photograph. It was a bit hard to tell from a distance, but there seemed to be a fair mix of both muggle and wizard photos.

The only exception to this was on the far wall. Aside from a single door that presumably led to the loo, glass cases were mounted on every inch.

Harry and Neville's eyes widened at the massive collection of weapons on display. Neville might not have been able to identify the large selection of firearms, but he certainly appreciated the knives, swords, machetes, clubs, bows and crossbows. The handguns that would break a normal man's arm and rifles large enough to qualify as small pieces of artillery were more impressive to Harry by far.

Seeing their wide eyes, Hermione muttered, "Boys…" and rolled her eyes.

"Ah, come in, come in," Hargid exclaimed. He was wearing what would have been a rather dapper suit, had it not been covered in purple and neon orange zebra stripes. He gestured towards a large table sitting in the center of the room. "Please, make yourselves at home."

The children looked at each other hand shrugged.

"You… uh… have a lovely home," Hermione declared as she climbed up into the chair. Given how high the chair had to be to sit properly at the table, that was quite a bit of climbing.

Hagrid's face brightened as he sat down. "Built with trees from this very forest. It was a bit of a DIY, but I like to think I made a smashing job of it," Hagrid declared. "Oh, but I'm being a bit of a silly bugger, aren't I? I am Rubeus Hagrid. I'm quite chuffed to meet you both."

"Uh… Hi. I'm Hermione," Hermione responded, looking at the large man warily.

"Neville."

"A twee young lass and Frank Longbottom's sprog," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "You've quite good taste in companions, Harry."

Neville focused on Hagrid with a look of curiosity and hope on his face. "You knew my father?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not very well, I'm afraid. We only worked together on a few occasions," Hagrid said regretfully.

"Oh," Neville said softly. He slumped down in his seat, an obviously dejected look on his face."

Hagrid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I _can_ tell you what he was like from a professional standpoint, I suppose. The man was brave to the point that many of his coworkers thought him a bit wonky. He was also one of the toughest blokes I've met," Hagrid nodded approvingly. "It's no surprise your parents held off the Lestranges and downed a dozen Death Eaters before succumbing."

Neville stared at the giant man with wide eyes. "A dozen?" he echoed in a shocked tone.

"Well… there was a bit of contention on that point. The aurors had a difficult time reconstructing the bodies. Could have been anywhere between ten and fifteen, they said," Hagrid coughed into his hand. "Regardless, your parents were a force to be reckoned with. I've no doubt you'll do them proud. You've the same fierce look about you, after all."

Neville froze, an expression like someone had told him the Earth was a flat disk sitting on the backs of four elephants who were in turn standing on a giant space-turtle's shell on his face.

"Fang old boy, how's that tea coming? I could murder a cuppa!" Hagrid called over his shoulder.

"Woof."

Hermione and Harry paused, then slowly turned their gazes to look past Hagrid. In the kitchenette at the back of the cabin, a dog was making tea. The enormous beast was easily standing on its hind legs, trotting back and forth. Even as they watched, he deftly manipulated a large tea percolator.

"A bit barmy, isn't it?" Hagrid asked.

The pair silently nodded in agreement.

"Imagine brewing tea in such an odd contraption. I keep telling him a kettle is good enough, but he insists on using it. Although… it does make a good cuppa," Hagrid grudgingly admitted. "Still, it's very odd."

"Yeah, that's definitely the weird part," Hermione muttered.

"Totally," Harry agreed.

"Oh dear! I'm afraid I've gone and dropped a clanger. I assumed your familiar would have little interest in tea, so I took the liberty of preparing the bovine outside for her."

Orchid, still standing behind Neville, slowly turned her hopeful gazed down towards her master.

Neville sighed, "Fine. But don't make a mess. I'd really rather not have to think about how it got there..."

Orchid nodded enthusiastically and happily bounced out of the cabin.

"Mr. Moo Moo…" Hermione whispered.

"She was really disappointed nothing tried to eat us on the way here, Harry said as he examined Hermione's greenish complexion, "So it's good the gets to have some fun."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Harry was a little nervous walking through the forest, so we used Orchid as a meat shield. Uh, plant shield," Hermione explained in response to Hagrid's inquiring look. She tried very hard not to think about the fact than an enormous dog had just put a cup of tea down before her.

"I was nervous?" Harry demanded.

Hermione nodded. "Very good, Harry. It takes a respectable man to admit he was frightened."

"Exercising a spot of caution is always a good thing, but there's no need to go collywobbles," Hagrid said, reaching over to give Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "The ward fence does a smashing job at keeping the nasties contained."

"Yeah, Harry, don't go collywobbles on us," Hermione snickered.

"Indeed. The only thing that ever gets past the wards is that blasted Nemean Lion. I've no idea how the bloody thing does it, but he does. Drives me bonkers, and I'm certain he knows it," Hagrid complained.

Hermione went pale.

Harry watched curiously as Fang trotted around the table and sat down on a cushion next to Hagrid. The dog lifted a front paw and used it to lift a teacup, taking a small sip. "A Nemean lion?"

"I brought him here as a cub," Hagrid explained. "He's proven to be a bit more resilient than I'd thought. I've been chasing the blasted bugger around for two years, and I'm not even sure I've dented his hide. It's gotten to the point where he's something of an old chum now."

"Oh. That makes sense," Harry muttered. He was a little surprised (and concerned) to realize the comment had been completely sincere. Shaking it off, he tried a sip of his tea. "Um… this is really good tea, Fang."

"Woof," the dog responded with a nod.

"Hagrid… you said you worked with dad. What did you do?" Neville asked curiously.

Hagrid's enormous finger tapped the table as he frowned in thought. "In my younger days I was an avid hunter and travelled much of the globe. On occasion some sad arse would poke something with a stick, then hire me when it poked back. A pest-removal sort of thing, I suppose," Hagrid explained.

Harry examined an enormous insectile head hanging on the wall. It was like someone inflated a scorpion to three hundred times the size, given it an extra set of eyes, then made it the stuff of nightmares.

Well, more than it already was.

"Oh," was all he could think of to say.

"The ministry hired me on more than one occasion. Charging in and casting spells is admirable in its own right, but it is a far cry from the cunning and skill hunting requires. They may find my methods distasteful-" he gestured towards the gun display. "-but results are all that matters. In the end, I suppose hiring me was better than requesting a Breaker from the ICW."

"What's a breaker?" Hermione queried.

"Scary…" Neville answered. "Gran doesn't like them at all. She says they're dangerous and crazy."

"The first is most certainly true, and the second is quite often as well," Hagrid agreed.

"Okay, so they're insane. That's great. But what _is_ a breaker?" Hermione repeated.

"The International Confederation of Wizards' Magical Crisis Intervention Agents. They're essentially elite, ICW-backed hitwizards," Hagrid explained. "The ICW loans them to countries that are unable to deal with magical disasters, cursed relics or magical beasts on their own. They're colloquially known as 'Breakers' due to their tendency to solve problems in a **very** final and frequently messy manner. They have a bit of a bad reputation, due to the chaos and destruction they often leave in their wake."

Harry was clearly impressed. "And they just let them run around doing that?"

"There's a reason calling for a Breaker is something magical governments take very seriously," Hagrid chuckled. "Some are just barmy, but I think they get a bit of a bad rap. Most are quite reasonable when they're not blowing something up. Just look at Minerva. She'd give you a good bollocking, but she's not likely to set you aflame. Well, not unless you really deserve it."

"Minerva… that sounds familiar…" Hermione muttered.

"It would be a bit odd if it didn't, I suppose. She's the head of your house," Hagrid announced.

"..."

"So, let's not get her mad," Harry suggested."That's… probably a really good idea," Neville agreed.

"Hagrid. I'm curious. Fang's your familiar, right?"

Hagrid nodded. "That he is. The old boy's the finest canine gentleman you'll ever meet."

"So, how exactly do you go from being a wizard to shooting things in the face with muggle firearms? Most wizards can't even get the word 'firearm' right most of the time, let alone use them."

"That.. is a sad story, I'm afraid. A sad one, but one with a smashing end," Hagrid pronounced as he rose from his chair. "Just one moment."

The trio watched Hagrid walk over and begin searching a bookshelf.

"Woof?"

Harry considered the percolator the large dog was holding aloft. "Oh, no thank you. I've had enough."

"Ooh, I'll have more," Hermione proclaimed. "It's quite lovely."

"Woof," Fang said happily, pouring her another cup.

"Here we are," Hagrid announced, dropping a rather large book onto the table. Flipping it open, he proudly pressed a finger upon one of the photographs held within. "This is my lord and patron, The Most Honorable Andrew Quartermain, 7th Earl of Funnyrock."

Three students stared at the photo curiously.

"He's wearing a pirate hat. It has poofy feathers and everything," Harry observed.

"Is that a bottle of rum in his hand?" Hermione asked. "And why does he have a fistful of one pound notes?"

Neville's eyes widened. "Those girls in the back… they're not wearing much…"

"Ah, yes. My lord threw that party just before we left Jamaica. We were down there hunting chupacabra, and he wanted to thank the locals for their help. He was always the thoughtful type."

Hermione frowned. "Hagrid, there's no chupacabra in Jamaica…"

"Not anymore, there isn't," the half-giant said proudly.

"Is he arguing with a parrot in this one?"

Hagrid gave Harry an amused grin. "Oh yes, I remember that! Lord Quartermain was completely gassed that night. He and the parrot spent two hours screaming, 'Stop copying me!' at each other before he sobered up enough to realize what he was doing."

"He's carrying a basket of kittens and wearing a shirt that says, 'Ask me about my pussy,' here."

"He was one of the most noble and honorable men you were ever likely to meet. He treated other with the respect they were due, regardless of their station. He always did what was right, and was refined to a T in any setting that required it," Hagrid said. "In every other situation, he was quite barmy. He said to me one day, 'Hagrid, being refined is fine, but that doesn't mean you can't get blitzed out of your mind, pretend that's why you suck at darts and use an improvised crossbow to fire darts made of rolled-up thousand pound notes at homeless men.'"

"Huh. I guess that fits his title. Where is Funnyrock, by the way?" Hermione asked. "I've never heard of it before."

Hagrid chuckled and replied, "Buggered if I know."

There was a brief moment of confused silence.

"You don't know where your lord's domain is?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"No one does, at least as far as I know."

The confused silence lasted a lot longer than a moment this time. The students exchanged a quick look, then Hermione smacked Neville in the back of the head.

"Why?" Neville immediately asked.

"Well, it's a bit of a nutty tale, really. You see, my lord's full title was 'Earl of That Funny Looking Rock About A Twenty Minute Hike North of the Castle In Moderate to Fair Weather, Just West of That Weird Tree.'" Hagrid chuckled. "As you may have guessed, there are quite a few trees and rocks in that direction, and how far 'twenty minute's walk' is has been a point of contention."

Hermione, judging by the look on her face, had decided Hagrid was completely mental. "You're kidding, right?"

"Of course not. You see, in the middle of a weeklong bender, King William the Fourth decreed that the first person who brought him the 'cutest fucking kitty' would be granted peerage. Because he was positively steaming at the time, not even **he** knew which rock he meant. Historians have been debating it for nearly two centuries."

"I'm starting to think I might hate this world. Not the wizarding world, mind you. The world in general," Hermione groaned. "So how did you hook up with this guy?"

Hagrid sighed and looked just a little depressed. "When I was a student, I was a bit of a berk. I put myself in a rather bad position. My magical core was sealed and my wand was snapped."

"What?" Harry exclaimed in shock. "Why!?"

"There was a bit of a misunderstanding involving a murder a murder that took place in her halls. Because of my poor choices, it was easy for the bloody wanker that did it to shift the blame to me. Called down the rozzers right after, and everything went balls up."

Harry, Hermione and Neville were clearly absolutely aghast.

"That's horrible!" Hermione shouted. "How could something like that happen? Don't they have magic that can figure out who killed the guy?"

Nodding, Hagrid replied, "Indeed they do, but I'm afraid I was buggered even before the trial began. I'm half-giant, you see. There's a lot of knob-heads around here that think I'm guilty simply by existing. It was either lose my magic or be an old lag."

"That's… probably the worst thing I've ever heard," Hermione whispered. "Why didn't you just do your time?"

Surprisingly, it was Neville who answered. "Because wizarding prison is a really, really bad place. Even the higher floors can crush a bloke. Depending on who died, he might have ended up way underground…"

"Exactly," Hagrid said, nodding in approval. "So my wand was snapped, and I went to a Muggle bar to get absolutely pissed and forget my sorrows. The silly berks would never expect someone my size to be a lad, so they didn't even question it." There was a faint chuckle. "My lord took it upon himself to sit with a manky fool. Learning that I had no money, no home and no future, he needed a porter, and had been searching for a man my size. Took me in, and I was his manservant for years."

The pride in Hagrid's voice as he said that came as a bit of a shock for Harry. He'd been used as a servant (or possibly slave) for years, and hated every minute of it. How could someone be so happy to be treated like that?

"He sounds amazing," Hermione said. "I would've liked to meet him."

"He was my most beloved companion," Hagrid replied solemnly.

"Woof!" Fang objected indignantly.

"Oh, don't frig about, Fang. A Familiar is no mere companion, and you know it!"

Fang thought for a moment, then shrugged and conceded, "Woof."

Laughing, Hagrid gave his Familiar an affectionate pat on the head. It was a blow that could probably crush any of the first-years. It was only Fang turning his head at the last moment that saved his lovely bowler hat.

The dog gave Harry a long-suffering look, as if he couldn't believe how unrefined his master could be.

"Don't let the old boy fool you. There was few thing he liked better than going on a romp with our lord. He's never looked more alive than he does vaulting a pitfall or dodging a spike trap!" Hagrid announced.

"...spike trap?"

Hagrid nodded and quickly rifled trough the pages of the album. Finally he settled on a page dominated by a large picture. In it, the Lord of Funnyrock was straddling a massive metal spike protruding from the wall, gripping it with both hands. Judging by the grin on his face, he knew exactly how perverted the situation looked.

The page across from it sported another picture of the very same lord. He was perched atop something that looked like a swinging pendulum, holding the chain with one hand and laughing hysterically.

"My lord was quite the adventurer. He was always searching for the lost and hidden, or even just a new thrill. It was from him I learned my love of hunting," Hagrid explained. "He was especially fond of more… exotic game."

The three stared at a picture of Lord Quartermain posing with one foot up on the middle head of a cerberus.

"He called that one Fluffy," Hagrid chuckled. "Could you even imagine giving a cerberus such a foolish name?"

"You told him about magic! Hagrid, that's illegal!" Hermione gasped.

"Told him? Of course not. There's more than a few lads in the muggle world that are well aware of it. Monsters and curses and such," Hagrid said. "Why, if the sods upstairs knew how many Class-A Restricted objects the Crofts alone had in their care, they'd go spare!"

Hermione looked back at him with wide eyes. "Wait, the Crofts? As in the Croft Museum of World Artifacts? But their family has been debunking ancient legends for generations!"

"Indeed. They've 'debunked' legends about some of the most ancient and powerful artifacts in history. Rather amusing, considering that most are completely valid and the Crofts are well aware of that," Hagrid chuckled. "Over half the objects in their museum are truly enchanted, and some are quite dangerous."

"But who would bother with a 'fake' artifact, and it must be fake if they're just putting it on display like that," Hermione reasoned, her face lighting up in understanding. "They're hiding them in plain sight!"

Hagrid nodded and stood. "Quite well reasoned. Now, I think I've waffled on and filled your clocks with a enough codswallop. You'd best get back to the castle. I believe your free period is about to end."

The children nodded in agreement and quickly finished their tea, a process that took slightly longer than it should have due to Fang's sudden decision to dump the remainder into a thermos for Hermione. As they were turning to leave, Hagrid strode over and pressed something into Neville's hands.

The trio looked at the object with great curiosity.

It was a sheaf of parchment slightly smaller than a muggle notebook. Leather cord bound them together into a single mass. The parchment itself was a mismatched mess, may of the sheets being a different thickness, size or color.

The dark red stains on the cover didn't look like they came from jam.

"That belonged to a good friend of mine. I think passing it along to you would make him rather happy, especially given your Orchid," Hagrid explained.

Neville stared at it uncertainly. "'Belonged' to him? Then he-"

"-has no further use for it, of that I'm certain," Hagrid finished. "I've also been tasked with providing the occasional live meal for your Familiar."

"More Mr. Moo-Moo?" Hermione whispered in horror.

Hagrid nodded. "As distasteful as it may seem, living creatures are an alura une's primary source of food. Failure to provide it may be detrimental to her health."

"Distasteful as it may seem, the alura une is a spirit that thrives on living prey. It is unlikely she will be satisfied with merely eating a roast turkey, and it could be detrimental to her health."

Neville grimaced. "I- I get it. We should… probably go get her now."

The three quickly left the cabin, steeling their stomachs as they rounded the corner. What they saw there made them freeze in their tracks.

"Okay, were either of you guys expecting this?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Neville stared at Orchid, who was perched atop Mr. Moo-Moo's back, happily riding him around the pen.

"You know… not that I'm complaining… but there's a lot less blood than I was expecting," Harry proclaimed.

Neville nodded and agreed, "A _lot_ less blood."

"Should we just take her back to the castle?" Hermione wondered. "We could spare Mr. Moo-Moo his terrible fate."

"You heard what Hagrid said, though… It might not be good for her," Neville said reluctantly.

Harry motioned toward the familiar. "Right. Knock yourself out, then."

"What? Why do I have to tell her!?"

Neville," Hermione sighed. "She's _your_ familiar. That means you get to deliver Mr. Moo Moo's death sentence."

"Why couldn't _I_ have the catgirl…" Neville muttered.

"Neville? She rubbed 'jam' all over my face. At least you just have to watch it."

"...right. Well, sucks to be Mr. Moo-Moo, I guess," Neville sighed. "Hey, uh, Orchid?"

Catching sight of her master, the plant waved happily. Just as she did, Mr. Moo-Moo turned at the end of the enclosure. Orchid's gaze remained on Neville, her vines and flowers reconfiguring so she could swivel her head 180 degrees.

"I'm thinking I should leave the emotional trauma being here inflicts out of my letters to my parents," Hermione said conversationally.

Harry nodded.

"Orchid, you know Mr. Moo-Moo's food, right? I mean, you can keep him as a pet if you want, but that's not what he's for," Neville told his familiar.

She gave him the "confused plant" look.

"Mr. Moo Moo," Neville said slowly, pointing at the cow, "is food," He raised his hands and made a motion similar to Orchid's bloom closing.

The spirit stared at him for a second, then her eyes widened as realization set in.

Over the next 2.7 seconds, Harry and his friends discovered a rather interesting bit of trivia. Alura une, when consuming something they couldn't "enjoy" taking their time with, were extremely messy eaters. The exact details of Mr. Moo-Moo's demise are best left to the imagination.

It is worth noting, though, that there is a very important rule when watching a hungry alura une eat. Any onlookers would be well advised to maintain a certain minimum distance. This was not because of any danger posed by the plant, but more to avoid the peripheral effects of her meal. To sum it up quite simply: always make sure you're outside the splatter zone.

Harry, Hermione and Neville clearly weren't privy to that particular piece of information.

The three first-years stood by the corner of the cabin, shellshocked looks on their faces. Their _red_ faces, painted by the same fluid that was plastering their robes to their bodies. Hermione very slowly turned her head and spit to the side, discharging a large glob of reddish material.

"Oh… you had your mouth open too?" Neville asked.

Hermione nodded wordlessly.

"Well, that makes me feel a little better."

"Guys…" Harry whimpered. "I think I just swallowed a kidney."

Hermione smeared her tongue across the roof of her mouth and spit again. "Do you think that tastes better or worse than a spleen?"

"Well, 'spleen' sounds funner. I don't know if that relevant," Neville whispered. "Can- can you tell I'm crying under the blood?"

"I'm not sure we can tell you're _you_ under the blood."

Orchid happily flounced up to her master and leaned forward to examine his face, cutely clasping her hands behind her back.

"Uh… Orchid?" Hermione muttered. "You've… uh… you've got a little thing…" she advised, making a vague motion.

Orchid stared at her in confusion, then straightened and raised her hand to her face. She felt around for a moment before extracting a strand of viscera from the corner of her mouth. Blushing prettily, she quickly ate it.

"Yeah… that too. I was talking about that, though," Hermione clarified, pointing.

The plant looked down and examined the large loop of cow intestine that was hanging out of her stomach. Frowning at it, she gave it an experimental tug. The messy chunk of bovine stubbornly refused to move. She glared at it again, then shrugged.

Her entire midriff split open into a vicious maw full of thorn-teeth and writhing viney tongues. The jaws came down on the intestines with a squish and dragged them into the thorny hell within the spirit's body. Her torso resealed a moment later, leaving no sign something that would make Stephen King piss his pants had just occurred.

"You know what would be nice right now?" Harry rhetorically inquired. "Pretty much anything with alcohol in it. I've never actually had alcohol, but I'm pretty sure this is why people start drinking."

"Harry, people start drinking because they lost their jobs. **This** is why people start snorting cocaine off a hooker's ass in between taking hits off a joint," Hermione disagreed, immediately receiving two shocked looks. "What? So my parents need to screen the dvds I buy a bit better. That's hardly my fault."

"I bet the twins could get us some booze," Harry suggested.

Neville frowned. "Harry, do you really think- Wait, nevermind. I just realized how stupid that question was gonna be."

"You guys can go bum some liquor if you want. I've just realized I feel like spending the rest of the day in the shower," Hermione announced. "You're coming too, you horrific flower full of terror. I need someone to scrape the small intestine off my back, and you just volunteered."

Harry gave her a weird look. A moment later, Neville did the same.

"What? Why are you both staring at me!?" Hermione demanded.

There was a slight tug at Hermione's neck. Frowning in confusion, she turned her head. The motion allowed Headwig to easily yank the slimy string of meat she'd been pulling on out of Hermione's collar. The owl stood there on her shoulder and looked back at her with offending meat hanging from her beak.

Hermione smiled at her Familiar. "Oh, Headwig. Are you trying to clean mommy up? You're such a good girl!"

Headwig stared at Hermione.

Hermione stared at Headwig.

There was a long, drawn-out slurping sound as the strip of cow was slowly sucked into the owl's beak. Headwig chewed a few times, then tilted her head and gave a happy hoot.

"Hermione? I think there's something seriously wrong with your owl…"

"Isn't she cute!?"

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

Author's Note

X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X

This is going to be one of those boring notes that is actually relevant.

First off, I'm beginning the long, arduous process of reformatting and proofreading the earlier chapters of this. It started with a simple reformat, when I noticed had eaten a lot of my formatting. Worst of all was the fact that the Adder's speech was sometimes not in italics! During the process I noticed several pretty major errors. Long story short, now my brain won't leave me alone until they've been proofread.

Fucking brain.

Second thing I wanted to mention was that, unfortunately, I don't know when the next chapter of SF is going to come out. It's not because I'm abandoning the story or anything like that. I wouldn't do so without explicitly saying so, because I hate it when something is just abandoned without any indication. It's more because my well of creativity is drier than a 90-year-old nun's cooch in a sandstorm.


End file.
